Truly Great Madness
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Story written as a final tribute to channeld. She had suggested it and I got started on it too late for her to see it. Tim decides to go for his Ph.D. and finds more challenges than he bargained for in doing so. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story was suggested by a friend of mine, channeld. She died last week and never got to see this story's beginning. I don't normally post stories while they're in progress on ffnet, but because of the circumstances, I want to post this one as I write it...as a last tribute to a much-missed friend. Pam wanted to see a story in which Tim decided to pursue a Ph.D. but she waited until I was finished with my own doctorate because of all the troubles I was having. I wish I could have started it sooner.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of NCIS, and I am not making money off this story.

* * *

**Truly Great Madness  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

Dedicated to channeld (Pam)

"_Truly great madness can not be achieved without significant intelligence."  
__Henrik Tikkanen_

**Chapter 1**

Tim sighed as he found the information he'd been searching for. This was _not_ what he'd hoped. It put things off still further into the future. But at least now he could start preparing for it.

"What's up, McGee?" Tony asked as he came in from lunch.

"Nothing, Tony," Tim said and quickly closed the window before Tony could get to his computer. He had no desire to let Tony know of his idea. That would be inviting torment whether he was successful or not.

"Oh, that's your _it's something but I don't want to tell you_ nothing."

Tim smiled...and said nothing.

"Come on, Probie! You've got to tell me! It'll eat you up inside!"

"Why would you say that?" Tim asked.

"Uh...because?"

"Sorry, Tony. I'm unconvinced."

"Okay...hmmm..."

Tony was thinking of something he could use to force Tim to tell him what was going on. Tim smiled. It was kind of a game, but until he knew for sure how all this would pan out, there was no _way_ he'd tell any of his coworkers. Gibbs would have to know and Vance, by extension, but not anyone else at NCIS.

"Okay...how about this: Rule number 4."

Tim grinned. "Nope. Doesn't work. Best is to keep it to yourself. Second best is tell one other person. No third best."

"One other person!" Tony said triumphantly. He gestured at himself.

"Nope. The one other person I'd tell if I had something to tell is Gibbs."

"Gibbs? Gibbs?! How could you tell him and not tell me?"

"Because _Gibbs_ would need to know. You don't."

"Probie! I'm hurt!"

"You'll get over it," Tim said and silently thanked the powers that be that he had made a habit of clearing out his browsing history after each session.

"Get over what?" Ziva asked.

"The Probie is holding out on us, Ziva!" Tony said. "He has a secret and he won't confide!"

"You just proved my point completely, Tony. You can't be trusted with a secret."

"So you _do_ have one?" Ziva asked.

"Not really. Not yet anyway," he said with a smile.

Ziva grinned back and then sat down and looked at Tony.

"You told her, didn't you, Probie," Tony said. "I _knew_ you liked Ziva more than you liked me!"

"I don't have anything to tell her, Tony. You're the one who says I have something to tell."

"Are you done gossiping?" Gibbs asked as he strode into the bullpen.

"Definitely," Tim said with a look at Tony.

"Yes, Boss," Tony said.

"Good. I expect you three to get your reports written up and submitted before the sun goes down. JAG is prodding."

They all nodded and got to work. Tim did as well, but his mind was still dwelling a little bit on this idea that had started to take shape over the last few months. Maybe it was ridiculous, but he'd never know unless he tried. He hadn't even considered it until Sarah had started talking about it.

"McGee!"

Tim looked at Gibbs.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Writing requires actual movement."

Tim swallowed.

"Yes, Boss."

He refocused on the case at hand. He wouldn't convince Gibbs that his idea was a good one if he couldn't keep his mind on his work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They all got out at a decent hour that night. Tim joined Tony and Ziva for a drink...during which Tony again tried to convince him to spill the beans, no matter what those beans might be. Tim refused and excused himself after about an hour. After hanging out with Jethro for a little while, he sat himself down at his computer and did a couple of searches. It only took a few minutes before he was ready to make a schedule. With a deep breath he signed up for a date a month away. That would give him time to prepare. The first step.

Then, he opened up two sites he'd been to numerous times in the last couple of weeks and started reading the information again.

The Ph.D. programs in computer science at Georgetown University and Carnegie Mellon University.

He knew that if he wanted to keep his job at NCIS, he'd have to pick a program nearby. He'd looked at the programs at all the universities nearby. He'd chosen these two as the best options, hoping that there would be a possibility of getting in. No matter how much more educated he felt than Tony, it had still been years since he'd been in school. Maybe he'd lost his geek skills. It was one thing to hack and work on computers at NCIS. He did what was necessary when it was necessary. In a school setting, even at the doctorate level, there were procedures he'd have to follow...and he'd gotten sloppy in some ways.

"But if I don't try, what's the point in wondering?"

He would have to retake the GRE which wasn't going to be fun, but it had been too long since he'd taken it the last time. They didn't have his scores on file anymore...which was too bad because he'd done really well, scoring high in both areas. Now, the GRE was a lot different from the test he'd taken way back when. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. He'd have to study. ...a lot.

"I hate taking tests."

Jethro barked at him.

"Yeah, I know. You need to get out. I probably should, too. Otherwise, I'm going to start stressing about it. How long do you think I can keep this a secret? I just need to do it until I get accepted. I can't stand the idea of Tony poking and prodding, making fun of me for wanting to go back to school again. ...and if I didn't get accepted? If I bombed the GRE? He'd be insufferable."

Jethro nudged Tim's elbow. He had his leash in his mouth. Tim laughed.

"Okay, okay. Let's go for a run."

He changed his clothes and let Jethro drag him out of his apartment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One month later..._

"Hey, McGee...what's up with you?" Tony asked.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

"You look a bit...nervous."

"Why would I look nervous?" Tim asked.

_I'm going to take a major test that will determine whether or not what I want is going to be possible. Why would I be nervous? There's nothing to be nervous about. Only my future..._

"I don't know...but you're nervous. Why?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tim said.

He had succeeded in keeping his hopes and his plans secret from everyone at NCIS. Tony had given up on trying to find out when he realized that Tim wasn't acting more secretive and furtive. It was just that the next day was the day he'd be taking the GRE and Tim was stressed out about it.

Gibbs came striding in, as usual.

"Grab your gear. Turns out that Mendoza's death wasn't an accident. Ducky found evidence of poison."

Tim was surprised at that and jumped to his feet to follow. Ziva got off the elevator and saw them all heading toward her.

"I will meet you at the car, Gibbs," she said quickly and ran to grab her bag.

Tim was actually relieved as they hurried back to the crime scene. Something to distract him from the coming test.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_It was her view that the country's problems had been...something...by foreign technocrats so that to invite them back would be counterproductive._

That had been the last sample question he had done...last night. What word would best fit in that blank? He thought about the choices and then mentally clicked on _exacerbated_.

"McGee!"

"Yeah, Boss?"

Gibbs glared at him.

"That's the third time he told you to get going on the bathroom, Probie," Tony said with a gleeful grin.

"Uh...sorry, Boss."

"You know, if your thoughts are so important, McGee..."

"Please, Tony, don't exacerbate the problem," Tim said...and then had to hold back a smile. How appropriate. He cleared his throat and hurried into the bathroom. As he began searching for any evidence of drugs or poisons that Mendoza might have had on hand, his mind began to wander again...this time, to the possible essay topics. He was worried about getting everything right.

"Exacerbate? What kind of a word is that?" Tony asked.

"A long one," Tim said, leaning out of the bathroom. "Would you like me to define it for you?"

_Thwack!_

_Thwack!_

Tim and Tony both winced and rubbed their heads.

"Work. Stop talking."

"Yes, Boss," they said in unison.

Tim cleared his throat and started checking through the medicine cabinet and under the sink.

"What was it that Ducky found?" Tim called.

"Signs of organ damage that can't be explained as natural causes. Abby's running the tissue and blood again."

"Okay. I don't see any drugs, prescription or otherwise, in here. Some Clorox under the sink...and some...Scrubbing Bubbles."

He heard Tony chuckle.

"Sounds like a real exciting bathroom, McGee."

"_I_ have more stuff in mine."

"Yeah, all your girly lotions."

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Tony...sometimes, you are so puerile."

"I'm what?"

"Puerile."

"What in the world does _that_ mean?"

Tim just laughed. If nothing else, he was having fun using these words he'd been studying against Tony.

Tony poked his head into the bathroom.

"You been reading a dictionary in your spare time?"

Tim smiled.

"Nope. I haven't."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay..."

They all continued to work on processing the scene. Nothing really screamed murder and hadn't when Mendoza had been found...except for the fact that he'd been dead and they hadn't been able to tell exactly how he'd died, until now. It would be up to Abby to discover what there was in his blood, but if they had something that might explain it...

Tim really hoped that there wouldn't be anything that would call him in. He'd requested time off already. He hadn't told Gibbs about it. He didn't want to until he knew if there was anything to it.

Unfortunately, Gibbs didn't agree. After they got back to NCIS with more stuff for Abby and they were going through the information they had on Mendoza to try and figure out what had led to his death, Gibbs skewered Tim with a _look_. Tim gulped. He didn't think that he done anything _that_ bad.

Still, Gibbs said nothing until the end of the day. Tony and Ziva left and Tim was about to leave as well. He wanted to get a good night's sleep before his test.

"McGee."

"Yeah, Boss?" Tim asked, wondering if he was going to be lectured for something.

"What's going on?"

"Uh...I'm going home?"

Gibbs smiled a little and raised an eyebrow.

"You've been distracted...more than just today. For the last...month."

Tim was chagrined.

"I didn't think it was obvious."

Gibbs' smile widened. "It wasn't."

Tim groaned a little. He had walked right into that one.

"What's going on?" Gibbs asked again.

"I'm...taking the GRE tomorrow morning," he said in a rush...and let out a whoosh of air.

"Why?"

In for a penny. In for a pound.

"So that I can apply to a Ph.D. program and get my doctorate in computer science."

Gibbs' brow furrowed.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"Were you going to mention that to anyone?"

"I was going to wait until I'd been accepted to tell Tony and Ziva...and Abby and the rest. I was going to tell you if I did well enough on the GRE. No point in sharing if I was only going to fail. ...and if I do fail, I don't want Tony to razz me about it."

Gibbs said nothing and that goaded Tim to keep speaking.

"It's been a long time since I went to school. It's been a long time since I took a test. ...but I was talking with Sarah. She's going to grad school in California and she has been so excited about all the challenges and...and I just started to miss it myself. My master's was stressful, but I really liked it...and the challenge is something that I think I want."

"Are you trying to convince me that you're right about this?"

Tim chanced a smile. "If I have to. I hope I don't."

"You going to keep working?"

"Yeah. It might backfire, but I'm not doing this to get a different job. I think this will make me better at the job I already have."

"You don't think you're good enough?"

"I'm never good enough to stop learning, Boss. If you're not trying to do better at _something_, what's the point? I've kind of been coasting, and I don't want to keep doing that."

"You're taking the test tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Then...good luck, and let me know."

"I will. I promise."

Gibbs smiled. "All right. Good night, Tim."

"'Night, Boss."

Tim hurried off to the elevator and headed home. He resisted the temptation to study more and instead went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_The next morning..._

Tim took a breath and stared at the computer screen. It was time. He indicated that he was ready to begin.

_1. Just as human beings who depend on each other, there are no _ foliages._

Another breath.

_Okay. Bring it on._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tim came into work on Monday still feeling excited. He'd called his family over the weekend and celebrated with them. There were other things he had to worry about, but for the moment, he was happy about this one thing.

In fact, he couldn't keep himself from smiling as he walked to his desk. He'd tried to suppress his giddy feeling, but it was in vain. Gibbs came walking in as Tim sat down. Tony and Ziva hadn't arrived yet.

"It went well?" Gibbs asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tim couldn't help it. He grinned...and nodded.

"I still have to wait to hear about the essay part, but they don't look at those as much as the other two anyway."

Gibbs smiled.

"Well?"

"Perfect 170 on the Quantitative and 165 on the Verbal. That's lower than I wanted it to be but it's still in the 95th percentile."

"So...you missed five points and you're not happy with it?" Gibbs asked.

"Well...I could have probably done better, studied a little bit more and..."

_Thwack!_

"McGee, your score means that you did better than 95 percent of the other people taking this test."

Tim laughed. "I know...and I'm glad I did so well. I just always think that I could have done a little bit better."

"So...what's going to happen once you get into grad school and you're doing assignments...or whatever you do in grad school?"

"I'll either learn how to deal with it or I'll fail," Tim said. "This isn't a replacement for my job here, Boss. If you think I'm not cutting it, tell me...which I'm sure you would anyway...and I'll either step it up or I'll step out."

Gibbs nodded as the elevator dinged and Tony and Ziva came in together.

"You look happy, McGee."

"I had a good weekend, Tony," Tim said, knowing what Tony would think.

"What's her name? Or did you finally pass a really hard level of some computer game?"

Tim just smiled.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know, Tony? I see you and Ziva came in together."

Tony looked at Ziva, giving her an exaggerated leer. She rolled her eyes and walked to her desk. Tim hadn't told her anything, either, but he could generally rely on her to back him up in razzing Tony. She would join in with Tony in razzing _him_ given the opportunity; so he tried to bypass that.

"Yes, I was running a bit behind this morning and so Tony and I arrived at the same time."

Tim smiled. He saw Gibbs suppress a smile at his diversion. Tim would be happy to tell them...later...when there was no chance of them teasing him about something that secretly worried him. For now...well, he could now start thinking about his next step.

Applying to his grad schools of choice.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

Tim sat staring at his phone. It had been more than a decade. What were the odds that his master's advisor would remember him after all this time? He'd likely had dozens of students over the years, if not hundreds. Tim was only one of many. Maybe he should send an email first? No. Tim remembered very clearly Dr. Mallon's feelings on communication by email: a necessary evil. He tended to ignore emails if he felt the conversation would be better suited to actual speech.

Okay. He'd checked for Dr. Mallon's office hours. He was sitting outside NCIS. Tony and Ziva were off conducting interviews on their latest case. Tim himself had left a phone searching running. He had time. Okay. No more stalling. He dialed.

The phone rang and rang and rang.

"_Hello, this is Dr. Mallon's office. I'm not in right now. Leave your name, number and a _brief_ message and I'll call you back. Emphasis on _brief_."_

Tim smiled. He hadn't changed a bit. There was a beep.

"Hi, Professor Mallon. This is Tim McGee. You were my Master's supervisor about thirteen years ago. I'm going to be applying to get into a doctorla program and I was hoping you remembered me well enough to write a letter of recommendation for me. Uh...that's it. My number is 555-2157. Thanks."

Tim hung up and let out a loud exhalation. No going back now. He decided to head in, but his phone rang before he'd taken more than ten steps toward the building. He checked the number. Dr. Mallon. He answered quickly and walked back to the bench.

"This is Tim McGee," he said.

"_Tim! You're going back to school? Finally going to get that terminal degree?"_

"Finally?" Tim repeated. He couldn't remember ever hearing Dr. Mallon so excited about anything that was alive.

"_I never could understand why you stopped. Your ideas were ingenious. Out of date now, of course. You'll have to start over, but that doesn't matter. I'm sure you'll come up with something. Where are you applying?"_

"Uh...well, I'm going to try for Georgetown and Carnegie Mellon. They're in DC. I'm a federal agent here and I'm not leaving my job."

"_You're going to do both?"_ Dr. Mallon asked skeptically.

"Well, that's my plan. I'm not doing this to make a name for myself, Dr. Mallon. I don't need it to do my job. That's not what this is about."

"_Then, why, Tim?"_

Tim hesitated...but Dr. Mallon had never betrayed Tim's confidence.

"Because I want to do more with my life than just be content with what I already know."

A moment of silence.

"_I knew there was a reason you were one of my favorite students. You're always unexpected. Keeps an old guy like me on my toes."_

Tim actually blushed. "I was one of your favorites?"

Dr. Mallon laughed. _"You couldn't tell? Nevermind, of course, you couldn't. Yes, you were."_

"I wasn't even sure you'd remember me," Tim admitted.

"_Well, I do, and I'm more than happy to write a letter for you. Who else are you getting?"_

"My current employer...if I can get him to write more than a word or two. I'm not sure about the third. The computer work I've been doing isn't academic at all and really there's no one I can could go to as a reference."

"_Have you considered Jorgenson? You did independent study with him one summer as I recall."_

"I didn't think of him."

"_Why not?"_

"I only ever did that one course with him. It was just because I liked the topic."

"_Ask him. He'll do it. Or what about your advisor from Johns Hopkins? Biomedical engineering may not be what you're going to focus on, but it will show your versatility. You're not the typical grad student at this point, Tim. That can work for you or against you. You need to make it work for you. Stand out, even though I know that's not necessarily your preference. These are people who get sometimes hundreds of application in each academic year. You need to stand out as someone they'll think about and want to try out."_

"Who do you think would be better?" Tim asked, easily falling back into the old pattern of mentor-mentee.

"_Who was your advisor at Johns Hopkins?"_

"Brad Miller."

"_Hmmm...well, I've heard of him at least. Any ideas about your choice of specialty?"_

"Still deciding, but I've been thinking about the areas of cybersecurity and...well, uh..."

"_What is it, Tim? You suddenly sound like a teenager again."_

Tim laughed. "I feel like one."

"_What is it?"_

"Well, I've been interested in creating ciphers...breaking ciphers..."

"_Hacking?"_

"Is it hacking if I'm doing it as part of my job?"

"_I'll stay away from commenting on that, I think. It's a hot topic; so you have options. Send me the info and I'll make sure I write you an amazing recommendation. Send me your resume and c.v., too. I might as well be up on everything, and when you get admitted, make sure you keep in touch if you have the time to breathe between your job and school."_

"Will do," Tim said. "Thanks, Dr. Mallon."

Tim hung up and smiled. That had gone better than he could have ever thought. Things were slowly falling into place and if he could get a hold of Dr. Miller, he be able to get all of this done in time to apply for the next school year. Then, he could tell the others about all that he was planning. ...and hope that they wouldn't be mad at him for keeping it a secret.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

Tim walked to Gibbs' door and knocked before he could talk himself out of it. NCIS was what he'd been doing for the last ten years. No way could he avoid getting a letter of recommendation from his boss. He'd mentioned it to Gibbs once but hadn't followed through...and he couldn't do it at work where Tony and Ziva might overhear.

Still, he was nervous.

The door opened.

"McGee."

"Hi, Boss."

Gibbs seemed a little amused.

"What do you need, Tim?"

"Well, I mentioned a letter of recommendation a couple of weeks ago..."

Gibbs stepped back.

"Come on in."

"Uh...okay."

Tim followed Gibbs inside and sat down on the couch.

"So you really are going through it, huh?"

"Yeah. I've already got my applications all ready to submit. I've got two of my old professors writing letters, but I need three...and I've been working for you for the last ten years. I need to have your recommendation."

Gibbs smiled.

"You worried that I'll say no?"

"Yeah...a little."

"You don't think I would give you a good recommendation?"

Tim debated whether or not he should confess his true worry...but Gibbs was still sitting there, waiting.

"I think you would...if you actually did it, Boss. You have to submit it online."

Tim was worried for a minute that Gibbs would be irritated, but then he smiled.

"You may have a point. How soon do I have to figure this out?"

Tim smiled with more than a little relief.

"About a month at most. The sooner, the better."

"Okay. I'll do it, Tim. I'll get it done. If I can't figure it out, I'll ask you."

"Okay. Thanks, Boss."

"Still not going to tell anyone else?"

"Not yet. Not until I know that I've made it."

"What if you don't?"

Tim shrugged.

"I'll be disappointed, but at least I won't have to deal with Tony in addition to being disappointed."

"Well, good luck, Tim."

"Thanks, Boss. Really. I appreciate it...since I'm pretty sure you don't get why I'm doing this."

Gibbs didn't respond to that. He just stood up, signaling to Tim that it was time to leave. Tim left.

When he got home, he woke up his computer, signed in...and submitted his applications.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Two weeks later..._

Gibbs sent Tony and Ziva out to interview a few of the people involved in maintaining the staff records at Anacostia. After they were gone, he looked at Tim and gestured.

Tim walked over to Gibbs' desk.

"How do I do this, McGee?"

Tim looked at the monitor and then couldn't hold back a chuckle. Gibbs was looking at the automated emails he'd received from Georgetown and George Washington.

"You've written the letter?"

"Yeah. Did that last week."

"Okay. So...all you have to do is click on the link here in the email."

Gibbs did that, looking a little dubious. A yellow box showed up at the bottom.

"See? That's what it did the last time I tried."

"It's blocking a pop-up because pop-ups are often ads," Tim said. "Just click that you want to allow the pop-up."

Gibbs following Tim's instruction and looked a little surprised when the link opened a new window and brought up the submission page.

"Okay. So now what?"

"Now, you either need to copy and paste the letter or else you need to upload the file."

Gibbs pushed the chair back.

"Why don't you just do it?"

"Oh, I'm not supposed to see what the letters say, Boss. You're supposed to be free to write whatever you want and if I see it then..."

"Then, what? You think I'd lie?"

"Uh...no," Tim said. "It's just not supposed to be..."

"Tim, I don't care. I just want to get this done. So you copy and paste the letter. I don't care if you see what I wrote. It's nothing less than the truth."

Tim swallowed and nodded reluctantly.

"Okay. Where is it?"

Gibbs leaned forward and opened up Word. He opened up the letter and leaned back.

"Go for it."

"Okay."

He tried not to look at it at all. He didn't want to know what Gibbs said. ...well, he _did_, but only if it was really good and he wasn't _supposed _to know what was written. So he focused only on copying and pasting the letter into the box provided, first at Georgetown and then at George Washington. He submitted the letters at the universities and then pushed himself back from the desk.

"There you go, Boss. Thanks for doing this."

"Did you read it?"

"Of course not!" Tim said. "I told you. I'm not supposed to."

Gibbs smiled and sat down. It looked like he was getting back to work; so Tim headed back to his desk and brought up the search he'd been running. He barely noticed when the printer started running.

...until a piece of paper was suddenly dangling in front of his face. Tim looked up.

Gibbs dropped the paper on the desk and then went back to work himself. Tim picked it up and started to read it.

It was Gibbs' letter of recommendation.

"Boss..." Tim said weakly, looking up at Gibbs.

"I think you have work to do, McGee."

Tim set the paper to the side...and then shoved it into his bag to make sure that Tony and Ziva didn't see it. He got back to work.

The paper seemed to burning a hole in his bag all the rest of the day. Tim couldn't stop thinking about it, and he knew he was being ridiculous. Would this return to school also return him to his school persona? He wasn't sure he wanted _that_ to be seen by his coworkers. Actually, he knew he _didn't_. He'd been a bit bumbling at the beginning of his tenure at NCIS, but it was nothing compared to his social awkwardness in college.

_There's no reason to fall apart, Tim. You've come a long way since college. You're not the same person...you're just that much better. Stop freaking out at every step. No reason for that._

He took a breath and refocused.

They were trying to figure out who had access to the staff records at Anacostia who was unaccounted for. Whoever it was had covered their tracks when they had hacked the system. Tim wanted to see if there was some way of finding the tracks again. So far, he wasn't having much success which was why Tony and Ziva were out talking to the staff. Tim _really_ wanted to find something in the files...especially with his determination to get into a Ph.D. program. If he couldn't manage this, would that be indicative of his future success? Would Gibbs regret recommending him if he couldn't manage it?

As he worked, he chided himself for the uncertainty, the self-consciousness that had always been an issue for him. He had to let that go because it would only get in his way if he got into grad school again. This was a good time for him to stop the problem before it could even start. He kept working on the files without success through the entire day, not even noticing time passing.

"McGee?"

There had to be _something_. No one was perfect.

"McGee! Hey, Tim! Wake up!"

_Thwack!_

"Hey!" Tim said loudly, looking up and noticing that Gibbs was nowhere near him. "What's up?"

"Not the sun, Probie," Tony said. "Gibbs has given us leave to depart. You coming or are you going to spend the night?"

Tim smiled.

"No. I'm ready to go."

"Great. Will you come with us or are you going to pursue your computerized isolation?"

Tim laughed. "I'll come. I'm definitely making no progress on the files."

Ziva handed Tim his coat.

"You will make it...or else we will have another breakthrough that allows us to find who it was. Not even Gibbs expects us to do it tonight."

Tim stood up. "I know." He let out a whoosh of air and shook his head to clear it of all the computer code. "I feel like I've been staring at the computer screen without blinking all day."

"You look like it," Tony said and gestured for Tim to leave.

"Thank you, Tony. I appreciate that."

They headed out together.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Maybe it was the couple of drinks that loosened Tim's tongue. It wasn't that he was drunk. He wouldn't dream of doing that while he had a secret to keep, but he suddenly wanted to feel out how they might all react. He looked around at them all. Abby and Jimmy had joined them and it was a fun night.

"So...have you guys ever thought about going back to school?" Tim asked.

"I just barely got _out_ of school," Jimmy said. "No way am I going back."

"I've got the job I want," Abby said. "As long as I keep up with everything that's going on, I don't think I need any more school. I learn better on my own anyway."

"I'll bet _you've_ thought about it, Probie," Tony said. "I can't believe that you stopped going to school. I can see you as the perpetual student. Not me, though. Don't see the point."

"Nor do I," Ziva said. "Why are you asking?"

"Well...I was just thinking that..." Tim hedged the truth a bit. "...all this tracking I've been trying today...you know, the stuff that hasn't been working. Maybe if I had more training, I might be able to get through this stuff. The people we're investigating sometimes have way more education than I've got. It's no wonder they're better at it."

"Not better. It's not required that you're on par with every person. In fact...with some of these psychos, it's probably better than you're not," Tony said.

"Yes. It has never been required for us to know exactly how all these things work. We have been able to catch many criminals without being able to do what they do. It is not a necessity."

"I guess."

"Hey, Probie, you don't need to be a computer genius. You get to carry a gun! What more do you need?"

Tim smiled and toasted Tony's statement.

He stayed for about an hour longer and then excused himself.

When he got back to his apartment, he set down his bag, looked at it for a long moment and then opened it and pulled out the letter.

He wanted to read it...but he was afraid to read it at the same time. What in the world would _Gibbs_ put in a letter of recommendation? Gibbs, who said so little at the best of times. He had noticed that it was fairly lengthy. How in the world did Gibbs manage to type that much? So many words...could it possibly all be complimentary? Tim just didn't see how that was possible.

And yet, here it was in his hands. He couldn't possibly _not_ read it. Gibbs had given it to him on purpose. He _expected_ Tim to read the letter.

Tim took a deep breath and uncrumpled it.

_Re: Letter of recommendation for Timothy McGee, NCIS Special Agent_

_Agent McGee has been an employee of NCIS for the last ten years. For his first year, he was assigned to the Navy base at Norfolk. He worked under less-than-ideal conditions and was operating as a case agent when I first met him. Agent McGee was new to the job, new to the procedures, but he performed well. In fact, his participation helped solve the case and likely helped save the crew of U.S. submarine. In the months after that, he demonstrated his skills whenever they were needed, even when the requirements led to long commutes and longer hours. Without being asked he took it upon himself to network all of the computers at NCIS Headquarters on the Navy Yard in DC. From what little I understand, his work was good enough that the team who had been hired to do it couldn't make a single improvement to what he'd done. His skill set is such that I wanted to have him on my MCRT almost from the beginning. Since he has joined my team, I have not regretted the effort it took to get him reassigned, not once in the nine years I have known and worked with him._

_I don't know much about computers, but I can tell when it takes a lot of effort and a lot of skill to accomplish a task. Agent McGee has done that, over and over. I have asked a lot of him over the years, partly because I don't know the limits of computers, but I haven't hit the limits of what Agent McGee can do yet. He has worked with experimental technology, complex computer codes, and people who are certifiable geniuses. He has also had to work with people like myself and has explained complicated computer jargon to a dinosaur like me and managed to make it somewhat understandable._

_To be honest, I don't think that Agent McGee needs another degree to prove his value. He proves it every day. However, I can say without question that Agent McGee can and will do his best and that his best is better than most. He would be a definite asset to anyone who had the opportunity to work with him and I count myself lucky to have him on my team._

_Leroy Jethro Gibbs  
__Team Lead  
__NCIS Headquarters, Building #112  
__Washington Navy Yard  
__Washington, DC_

Tim sat back and took a breath. He wondered how much help Gibbs had on that. Was he really sincerely that effusive about Tim being on his team? Could he possibly really feel that way? Tim couldn't help but be skeptical.

He hesitated and then called Gibbs.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey...Boss?"

There was a pause and then a chuckle.

"_Yes, it's true, McGee."_

"What is?"

"_What I wrote in that letter. Don't let it go to your head."_

"Thank you, Boss. Really. Thanks."

"_It's true. That doesn't need thanks."_

"Yes, it does. I really didn't know what to expect."

"_Well, now, you know. Go to bed, McGee. You can't rest on your laurels."_

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"_I know. Good night."_

"Good night, Boss."

Tim hung up and looked at the letter again. He couldn't help smiling.

Wow.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three weeks later..._

"Okay, so we'll put that one in the reject pile," Roger Brown said. The head of the computer science program at George Washington had been working through these applications for days now and was ready to be finished. They'd had a lot of applicants this year. More than in previous years, and they didn't have the extra space.

"What do you think, Roger? Any good ones?" Joan Beemer asked.

"We've got a few," Roger said. "It's just weeding through the not-so-great applicants to find the good ones is so tedious."

"I've got a different sort of application for you," Sherman Wight said. "Actually, this one has already contacted me. I think he might be worth taking a chance on."

"Let me see."

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Sherman said as he handed the application over.

Roger scanned it.

"A federal agent? What's he doing applying to grad school?"

"Just look at the entire application. It makes for interesting reading...especially his letters of recommendation."

Roger started reading in more detail. Twelve years ago, it looked like this man would have been on the fast track to a Ph.D., but he'd stopped at a Master's and joined NCIS of all things. He looked at the letters...more specifically who had written them.

"Miller? The biomedical engineering guy at Johns Hopkins?" he said in surprise.

Joan leaned forward. "Biomedical engineering?"

"He has a B.S. in that, plus a B.S. in computer science from MIT, plus the M.S. in computer forensics at MIT. And look at his other academic letter of recommendation."

"James Mallon," Roger read. "You've got to be kidding me. I haven't had a letter of recommendation from Mallon in years. I saw him at a conference a few years ago and he said that he didn't have any undergraduate students worth recommending. I think he's getting too old for the advising role he's been in. Grad students seem to be fine, but undergrads? They should stop forcing that on him."

"But he's recommending this Tim McGee...enthusiastically," Sherman said.

"Really?" Joan asked. "Mallon doesn't get excited about living things very much. Are you sure that you're not misinterpreting the letter?"

Roger had been reading. "Listen to this: 'Of all the students I've had in the last twenty years, Tim McGee is one of the best. He's eager, capable, incredibly intelligent, and more than that, he's creative. If a program doesn't do what he wants it to do, he'll just write another one that performs adequately. He is also not ever going to be what you expect him to be. I was always surprised at the decisions he made, but they seem to fit him and what he wants. You will not be disappointed if you admit him to your program. No, he won't become the next Steve Jobs, Seymour Cray or Alan Turing...or maybe he will, but that's not his plan. What you'll get is someone who has ability and will leave your program better than when he came in. I recommend that you take a chance on an out-of-the-box applicant.'"

"Well..._that's_ definitely enthusiastic," Joan said. "Does he have the required qualifications?"

Roger read through some more of the information.

"Retook the GRE just a few months ago. Perfect on quantitative, 95th percentile in the verbal, and a 5.5 on the essay. Had all A's in his M.S."

"Twelve years ago," Joan pointed out.

"And a letter of recommendation from his current employer."

"So...wait, he's an agent. That's a full-time job. Is he planning on taking a leave of absence?"

Sherman shook his head. "No. He's planning on keeping his job and doing this at the same time."

"He's crazy. This isn't a simple course-based program."

"He knows that," Roger said. "His statement of interest indicates his awareness of the difficulties inherent in what he wants to do, and he's also aware that he is not the usual candidate for grad school."

"And he says that he's doing this so that he's better prepared for the variety of tasks he has to undertake in his job," Sherman added.

"You want him?" Roger asked.

"Yeah, I do."

"Joan?"

Joan shrugged. "I'm not opposed, but I think you both might be crazy...not just him."

Sherman grinned. "He might be a diamond in the rough."

"Yeah, yeah. So was Aladdin," Joan said, but she smiled back. "You haven't wanted a new student in a couple of years. So if you're willing to take on some real work, I'm not going to fight you on it."

"Ha ha. We'll have to get the okay of everyone else, but I'm going to argue for him."

"Okay. Let's see who's next," Roger said.

He set Tim's application in the short-list pile and picked up the next application.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Two months later..._

Tim knew that the call he hadn't been able to answer was from the faculty at George Washington. It had nearly killed him not to answer it, but they were in the middle of an investigation and he couldn't take the time. He had to hope that this wouldn't reflect badly on him. He'd already received a rejection from Georgetown. They had decided that he wouldn't fit into their current research program. He had moped about that for a few days. Tony had noticed and started probing again, but Tim held him off. He had been notified by letter, and not by phone. Surely, if they were going to reject his application, they would just tell him in writing and not waste time talking to him.

"Is this just a monthly thing for you, Tim?" Tony asked.

"What are you talking about?" Tim asked.

"It's like once a month you suddenly start acting nervous. If you were female, I'd say..."

"Don't say," Tim said with a groan. "I don't know why you're so obsessed with how I'm acting, Tony. You're acting like my mother."

"No accusations of babying, Probie," Tony said. "I was just being politely concerned."

"I appreciate it, but you're imagining things," Tim said, lying through his teeth. When he told them about his acceptance (hopefully), Tony would never let him live it down.

He took a deep breath and refocused on documenting the blood spatter on the floor.

_Would they really contact me by phone in any case? That wasn't my experience the first time around._

He took a sample of the spatter, put it in an evidence bag and moved on.

_So why would they do it this way? What could they have to say to me over the phone?_

This looked like oil, not blood. It had that weird rainbow sheen to it. Why in the middle of the kitchen? He began to document it.

_Could they really be willing to work with someone like me? My schedule will be difficult in the best of times._

Then, he saw the needle. If he hadn't been kneeling down to examine the oil on the floor, he might not have noticed it between the cabinets and the oven.

"Got a needle here, Boss," Tim reported.

He photographed it and then carefully worked it out of the space and held it up for Gibbs to see.

"There's something in it, still."

"Bag it. We'll see what Abby finds," Gibbs said.

Tim nodded and did as instructed. He kept working, but his mind was definitely not on the case. It was completely on the phone call. Still, he did his best because he didn't want to show himself unable to focus on his work when it could be so important that he do his job well. He caught Gibbs glancing at him throughout the day, but he managed to keep it together until he could make a secure call back...in the privacy of his car, parked on the side of the road when he decided that he couldn't wait until he got home.

"_Sherman Wight."_

"Hello, this is Timothy McGee. You called me earlier today."

"_Ah, great. Do you go by Tim or Timothy?"_

"Tim, generally."

"_Okay, Tim. I called to officially congratulate you."_

"I've been accepted?" Tim asked.

"_Yes. Very much so. You'll be working with me, and we need to meet as soon as possible to talk about how we're going to modify the program so that you can manage it. It helps that you already have a Master's degree, especially with Mallon as your supervisor."_

"I liked working with him."

"_He liked working with you, based on the glowing letter he wrote."_

Tim flushed, even though he was alone in his car.

"Thanks. Obviously, it's going to be hard for me to be around during the day."

"_You were very clear about that at the outset and I think we can manage it...if you're willing to do a lot of independent work."_

"Oh, definitely."

"_Good. So...let's see...what time is it?"_

"Almost eight."

"_Well, I'm still at my office. Why don't you drop by right now?"_

"Uh...sure!"

"_Good. I'll see you in a few minutes."_

Tim hung up. He hadn't planned on that when he'd made the call, but he would have to start getting used to odd hours, extra work, and the like, if he was going to do this. Best to get into that rhythm now. Quickly, he started his car and drove to George Washington campus.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sherman had been on his way out the door when Tim had called him back, but he had been staying late for the last few weeks, trying to get an article ready for submission. It wouldn't hurt him to stick around for a little while longer and formally meet his new student.

After about fifteen minutes, he heard footsteps in the hall. They were almost tentative, not what he'd expect of a seasoned federal agent. He sat back at his desk and waited to see how Tim would approach. There was a pause, the sound of some shuffling and then a more confident stride which brought his new student into view.

Not at all what he'd expected, actually, if Sherman were honest with himself. Tim McGee was actually quite polished for a computer geek turned federal agent. In addition, he looked kind of familiar.

"Dr. Wight?" he asked.

Sherman smiled. _That_ was the tone of an uncertain new student.

"Sherman."

"I'm Tim McGee."

Sherman stood and held out his head, inviting Tim to come all the way in. Tim shook hands, and he had a firm handshake. Then, he noticed something else.

"You always carry a gun?" he asked.

Tim looked down and flushed.

"Sorry. I called you on my way home from work. I don't generally take it with me when I'm other places."

"No worries. Have a seat. If you've just got off work, I won't keep you here long. By the way, have I met you before? You seem really familiar, but I can't think why."

"Uh..."

Tim's eyes flashed around the room, not out of nerves. He was obviously looking for something...and then he blushed bright red, again, not what Sherman would have expected of a federal agent. Tim cleared his throat and pointed to a shelf behind him. Sherman's brow furrowed and he turned around to look at what book Tim was indicating.

Sherman pulled the book off the shelf and looked at the dust jacket.

"Thom E Gemcity, huh?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't have thought that...it would be on your bookshelf," Tim said awkwardly.

"Actually, I use it in one of my intro courses."

"You do? What for?"

Sherman smiled. "To show how computer programming is often incorporated into entertainment. I use some parts of _Jurassic Park_, and I show them bits of _The Matrix_. It gets them interested before we start the long hard slog. I was always impressed. The stuff you put in there was very simple, but it was correct. Now, I know why."

Tim hitched a shoulder uncomfortably. Clearly, he wasn't used to being famous...either that or it was just too unexpected.

"Anyway, let's get to business. You'll get the official acceptance soon enough, but I want you to start prepping for what will be very stressful. Are sure you want to continue working _and_ doing your Ph.D. at the same time?"

"Very sure," Tim said, and the uncertainty was gone. "I'll tell you right now that if I can't handle it, I'm keeping my job. It's more important to me, but I do really want this. I wouldn't have started the process if I didn't intend to finish it."

Sherman nodded.

"Good. That's one thing out of the way. Some of the classes, you'll have the option of simply taking the tests and getting credit based on your scores. There will also be courses you'll have to do independently due to your work schedule. Along the way, however, there might be a class or two that I think you should actually attend. If you can arrange it with your supervisors, that would be better."

"I can try, but there would be days I'd be in the middle of an investigation and I wouldn't be able to leave that to attend a class."

"Of course. That happens for everyone, although not as a result of criminal investigations."

Tim smiled a little.

"What I'll do over the next couple of...weeks is draft a schedule for you. You can look it over and see if there's anything you'd like to change or add. Based on where you said your interests lie, I can make recommendations. If they don't work for you, let me know."

Tim nodded, but he didn't say anything.

"Are you nervous, Tim?" Sherman asked.

"Would it lower your opinion if I said yes?" Tim asked.

Sherman chuckled. "No, of course not, although I'd think that tracking down criminals or whatever you do would be more stressful than school."

"Don't underestimate my ability to worry," Tim said and smiled more widely.

"That makes you a typical grad student, I think, but it does surprise me."

"Carrying a gun doesn't stop you from getting nervous."

Sherman nodded in acceptance of that, but there _was_ still an air of confidence that was different from most of his students. He guessed that when one was dealing with death on a daily basis it was harder to be genuinely intimidated by something like a challenging course.

"Okay, so do _you_ have any questions for me?"

"Just one," Tim said.

"What is it?"

"Why did you decide to accept my application. I got rejected by Georgetown. I'm not a traditional grad student and there are a lot of modifications you're making for me. So...why? I'm guessing there were plenty of options for you to choose from."

"In part, _because_ you're not traditional," Sherman said. "You're a different sort of bird and when those come around, it's often worth taking an extra look. When I did, I was interested in the wide range of experience you've gathered over the years. I was interested in the fact that you use your computer science background so often in your work that it's what you're known for in your job. I'm also interested in _any_ student who can get an enthusiastic endorsement from James Mallon. He said that you're a different kind of student but one that would be exciting to have if we were willing to take a chance. I'm willing to take a chance. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out, but I won't regret doing it."

"Neither will I, and I don't think I'm nearly as great as Professor Mallon makes me out to be, but if I didn't think I could handle it, I wouldn't have tried."

"Okay, well, that's it for now. I do think you should make an effort to attend the orientation when it happens in September. It's a good idea to meet the other students in the program because you need to make some connections. So plan on getting here for that if at all possible. You'll get the schedule well in advance. Be ready for some long hours, and given your work schedule, some long nights. I don't want to discourage you, but you're taking on a major load by trying to do a full-time job _and_ full-time education."

"I know," Tim said. "There'll be some anxious moments, I'm sure, but I'll do my best."

"Good. Now..." Sherman hesitated here.

"Yeah?"

"There's one other thing I think you should know."

"What's that?"

"One of the faculty was _adamantly_ against admitting you. I wouldn't tell you that in the normal course of things, but this faculty member is...odd. And for a computer science professor to call another computer science professor odd is saying something."

Tim smiled, but there was some concern now in his eyes.

"I'm just a little bit worried that he might view you as some kind of professional threat. I also think he's a little jealous."

"Of what?"

"Of your having Mallon's recommendation. He couldn't get that himself. He's told us more than once. You won't _have _to take any of his courses, but you might want to. If you have any issues with him, I want you to come directly to me because I don't want this to become more problematic for you than it has to be. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say."

"Okay. Who is it?"

"Charles Ormond. He teaches our course on Network Security, and since you've expressed interest in cybersecurity in general, this would be a good course for you to take...but it might also backfire on you. There are other courses you can take at higher levels on security and cryptography that I recommend."

"I didn't think I'd be starting with a black mark against me," Tim said.

"It's only him, and the only reason I'm telling you is because he's the kind of person who might let that resentment fester. It's silly, but there you have it. If it becomes a real problem, tell me and we'll deal with it. Otherwise, don't stress about that too much. At the end of the day, he's a professional and he shouldn't be an issue."

"Okay."

"It's good to meet you officially, Tim, and I'll be inundating you with emails over the next couple of weeks. Be ready for that and be ready to start working."

"I'm ready for that."

"Good. Don't forget that this is _your_ idea."

Tim laughed as Sherman stood up and started to herd him toward the exit.

"I won't forget. This is what _I_ want. No one else."

Sherman smiled and then watched as Tim walked to his car. Meeting him had allayed his doubts and actually excited him to see what would come of having Tim in the department.

He was sure that it wouldn't be typical.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Tim was so excited about finding out he had succeeded that he managed to put aside the possibility of one of the faculty disliking him. He drove home as quickly as he could and then got Jethro all riled up.

"You ready, boy? You ready? Let's go out!" Tim said.

Jethro started leaping around in excitement. Tim laughed and changed his clothes as fast as he could. He had so much giddy energy right now that he needed a run to calm himself down...and he'd now passed that energy on to his dog which meant they both really needed to get out.

They ran. It was late for it, but they did it anyway. When they got back, Tim was all in a sweat and Jethro was panting. Tim was glad he'd gone, but now, he'd have to wait for the adrenaline to wear off. He fed Jethro and then sat down at his computer, unable to keep the goofy grin off his face. He stared at all his spare computer parts and basked in the fact that he had been accepted.

Before he knew it, he was pulling out his phone and calling Gibbs.

"_Gibbs."_

"I'm in, Boss!" Tim said excitedly. "I just had a meeting with my advisor."

"_You already have an advisor?"_

"Oh, yeah. I have to someone who's willing to work with me."

"_Oh. Well, congratulations. Are you going to tell the others now?"_

"Yes. Tomorrow."

"_You ready for what will happen?"_

Tim laughed. "Yeah, I think so. I'm most worried about what Abby will say. She'll be mad that I never told her."

"_You think it was a mistake?"_

"No, I don't. I think I was right to keep this to myself until I knew what was going to come of it. Hopefully, they'll be able to be happy for me...after they take some time to berate me for keeping it a secret. I'll deal with it, Boss."

"_You'd better. I don't want this ruining our work."_

"I won't let it, Boss. Promise."

"_So?"_

"Well, he says that there will be a lot of classes I can just test out of, essentially, but there will probably be a couple that I should actually attend and I need to make sure I can make it to the orientation in September."

"_September?"_

"Yeah, that's when I'll be starting."

"_Okay."_

"I'll get a good start planning everything this summer, Boss. I'll have a schedule set up and I'll make sure that you and Director Vance get a full summary of what I'll be doing. I want this to work."

"_Are you sure it will?"_

Tim smiled. "Not completely, but I'm going to do my best. Promise."

"_I never doubted that, Tim."_

"Thanks, Boss."

"_Just be ready for some fireworks tomorrow."_

"I will."

"_Get some sleep. You'll need it."_

Tim laughed.

"Thanks, Boss. Good night."

Tim hung up and smiled again. He was really happy about how things had turned out.

Hopefully, everyone else would be happy for him, too.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony and Ziva were speechless. ...for a few blessed seconds.

"Wait...what are you doing?" Tony asked.

"I'm going to get my doctorate in computer science!" Tim said.

"Where?"

"George Washington University."

"You can't just up and decide that."

"I didn't just up and decide it," Tim said. "I've been planning it for months."

"Months?" Ziva asked. "And you never said a word to us?"

"I didn't want to until I knew that I was going to get in. I was...worried about failing and if I did fail, I didn't want you to know about it."

"Why not?"

"Because...I didn't want you guys to tease me about it, and I didn't want you to know that I'd failed."

"Do you really think we'd tease you?" Tony asked.

Tim laughed. "Yeah, Tony. You would have and you know it! There's no way you could have resisted teasing me about being a geek and not being able to get into a geek program. Do you think you could have?"

Tony glared for a moment but then laughed a little sheepishly.

"Okay, okay. You're right."

"Can you guys be happy for me?" Tim asked.

"How long will you be gone?" Ziva asked.

"I won't be. I'm still working here."

Tony laughed again, but incredulously.

"You're going to get your mega-geek degree and still be working full time? Are you crazy?"

"Probably, but I'm still going to do it. I've been talking with my advisor and he's going to help me arrange my schedule so that I can manage it."

"But why do it that way?" Ziva asked. "Could you not simply take a leave of absence or something?"

"Maybe, but I don't want give up my job. That's not why I'm doing it."

"Then, why?"

"Because I feel like I could be a lot better than I am and I think I owe it to NCIS to develop my skills to the best they can be."

"But you are already much better than any of us."

"But I could be better than I am."

"Do you need to be?" Tony asked.

"From my perspective, yes."

"Well...then, good luck. Better you than me," Tony said.

"In computer science? Absolutely."

"Have you told Abby?" Ziva asked.

"No. I haven't told anyone besides Gibbs."

"Why not?"

"Gibbs' rule," Tim said with a smile. "Only tell one other person, and Gibbs needed to know."

"Wait..." Tony said, suddenly realizing what Tim was saying. "You were lying to me, weren't you! All those times when you were nervous about something and you said you weren't! You were lying! This was about grad school!"

"Yes, Tony. You were right. I was lying."

"Yes! I _knew_ it!"

Ziva rolled her eyes.

"You had better tell Abby before she hears about it from someone else. She will kill you."

"I know. It's worth it."

"Then, you _must_ be excited about it," Tony said. "I can't imagine talking about Abby feeling slighted as something that's worth it."

"Glutton for punishment."

"Well, I already knew that."

"Good luck, McGee," Ziva said. "I will be happy to see you succeed."

"And to stay sane," Tony added.

Tim nodded and then walked to the elevator. He did need to tell Abby, and he was ready for her to be irritated. He walked into the lab.

"Abby?" he shouted over the music. "Abby!"

"What, Tim?" Abby shouted back.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Of course!"

"Can I turn down the music?" Tim asked, smiling.

"I'll do it!"

Abby hurried into her office and the music was down to tolerable levels.

"What's up?"

Tim decided just to say it without building it up at all.

"I'm going to grad school and I'm going to get my Ph.D. in computer science."

Abby laughed.

"Come on, Tim."

"Really, Abbs. I am. I just met with my advisor last night and I'll be starting this fall."

"But if you were really going to grad school, you would have had to take the GRE and apply to schools and wait and wait. And that means it would have taken months. And that would _also_ mean that you would have been keeping it a secret."

"I was. I didn't tell anyone except Gibbs."

"And why would you do that?"

"Because it was something that I needed to know for sure before I told anyone."

"But you told _Gibbs_!"

"Abby," Tim said, "Gibbs _had_ to know because it will possibly affect my work here. He's my supervisor. If I wasn't worried about that, I wouldn't have told him, either."

"But you didn't tell _me_!"

Tim sighed.

"Abby, I didn't tell anyone except Gibbs because I wanted to keep it to myself until I was sure I'd get in."

"Why?"

Tim really hated when Abby acted so petulant. It was almost impossible to reason with her and it was worse than a little kid.

"Abby, if I didn't make it, I didn't want anyone to know that I'd tried. I wasn't sure if I still had it in me after all the years it's been since I was in school. And if I told any one person, besides Gibbs, everyone would have known, and that would mean that everyone would have had to know if I didn't make it, too. I didn't want to deal with that."

"You think I would have told someone?"

"Yes, Abby, I do. In fact, I'm positive that you would have let something slip at some point."

The Abby clouds were gathering, and Tim was a little irritated.

"Abby, I'm going to get my doctorate. It's going to be stressful, but I'm going to try it. I thought you might be happy for me since I got accepted. Tony and Ziva think I'm nuts but they're happy for me. I thought for sure that _you'd_ be happy for me, too. Am I wrong?"

"No, but..."

"But, Abby, I can't change that I didn't tell you and you know that if I wanted to keep it a secret it was my right to. Besides, remember Gibbs' rule?"

Abby looked more irritated than angry now which was an improvement, thank goodness. Tim knew she couldn't hold a grudge for very long, not when she knew there was really no need for it.

"Are you happy for me, Abbs?"

She scrunched up her face for a moment and then nodded.

"Yes, I am," she said and kissed Tim on the cheek.

"Good."

"But you had better not keep any more secrets from me about it."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Tim said and crossed his heart.

"Okay, then, I'll be happy for you."

Tim smiled. "Thanks. I'd better get back up so that I don't get Gibbs mad at me for being late."

"No, you don't want that."

She stuck her tongue out at him and then smiled and walked back into her office. In seconds, the music was blasting again. Tim retreated back to the bullpen.

"So you survived, Probie?" Tony asked.

"Yep. I did."

"Good. Let's get to work," Gibbs said as he strode in. He raised an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim just smiled.

Then, they were all back to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs could see how excited Tim was about getting accepted. All day long, nothing anyone did could bother him. Tony and Ziva made some jibes, but Tim barely seemed to notice. Gibbs was glad that Tim had succeeded, but at the same time, he couldn't help but be a little worried. Tim was determined to do it all, but while Gibbs could admit that it had been a very long time since he had been in school and that he'd _never_ been in grad school, he felt that Tim was kind of asking for trouble.

He hoped that there would be no problems and that Tim's advisor would really work with him, but he could foresee trouble. Tim would be more likely to run himself ragged trying to do everything. He wouldn't slack on his job but he would also be determined to be the best student he could be, and Gibbs was sure that Tim was an excellent student.

He would just have to wait and see how things fell out

...and hope that he was wrong.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sherman rolled his eyes. Charles was ridiculous.

"Charles, the decision has been made. You were overruled. No one else has a problem with admitting Tim McGee. What is your deal?"

"You have a man who shows no real interest in developing his academic credentials. All he wants is the degree. He's not going to be focused on this."

"You sound jealous, Charles," Sherman said bluntly.

"Of what?"

"That Tim is one of Mallon's students, and that he's got such rave reviews from Mallon."

Charles glared and then stormed out of Sherman's office. Sherman sighed. He had hoped that after a couple of days, Charles would cool down. Sherman was actually a little worried about it.

Still, they were all adults and it was more important to get Tim's schedule set up...avoiding Charles as much as possible.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Charles sat down in his office and fumed. He was _not_ happy having Tim in the department. It could only lead to trouble as far as he was concerned.

He turned on his computer and started to make some plans.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

As the weeks passed, Tim started having meetings with Sherman about every other week. They worked on planning Tim's schedule as rigorously as possible so that he wouldn't run into unexpected problems later on. He met with some of the other professors, including Jaye Koneru, who taught the upper-division courses on cyber and network security. She was enthusiastic about working with him and said that he should definitely plan on taking her class as soon as he could. She was excited at the prospect of having an agent as one of her students.

Sherman also introduced Tim to a few of the advanced students, the ones who had been there for a few years already. A couple were almost ready to defend. They looked a little surprised when he told them his occupation...and they were all a few years younger than he was. It was kind of a strange feeling, but Tim figured he'd get used to it, eventually.

At work, Tony continued to make comments about Tim going back to school, but most of them were actually fairly complimentary...at least, they were for Tony. Abby peppered him with questions, as if to make sure he really _wasn't_ hiding anything from her. Gibbs said little, of course. Ducky, Ziva and Jimmy were more enthusiastic, although a bit cautionary about the workload he was taking on. Tim had a meeting with Vance to explain his plan, why he was doing it and how he planned to accomplish it. He had meetings with HR about possible missed time. He had told everyone who needed telling about what he was doing.

Meetings. Meetings. Meetings. Tim felt like his whole life was becoming one long meeting. He knew that this would get him ready for the rest of it, but still...

It actually surprised him how much preparation this was taking. It was amazing how much harder it was to start something when you already had a job.

But finally, the academic year was beginning. Tim got time off to go to the student orientation meeting where he would meet the entire faculty, see the new students, learn more about the capabilities of the department and, in general, get to know everything he needed to know to get started.

Now that the moment was here, he was a little bit nervous.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked down the hall to the conference room where the orientation was going to take place. He had, thankfully, remembered not to wear his gun into this meeting. That would have been kind of foolish.

He walked into the room and saw the other new students already there, talking with each other. Tim actually felt bashful. He wasn't really good at these party things. He wasn't a big chatter, not with people he didn't know already, and insinuating himself into groups with people at least a decade younger than he was...well, it was awkward at best.

"Hi, Tim!" Sherman said suddenly. "Come on over and meet my other students. This is Tim McGee."

Tim swallowed and nodded. He walked over to Sherman and three other students. Sherman gestured to each one.

"This is Allen Jones. He's going to finish in a couple of years. Right?"

Allen chuckled. "Sure, Sherman. I'll get right on that...when you approve the software I requested six months ago."

"This is Lisa Dolan-Wright. She started last year. I swiped her from Joan Beemer."

"I don't think Joan has forgiven me yet," Lisa said as she shook Tim's hand.

Tim smiled.

"And this is my longest-running student, Nathan Roy. I think he's determined to be a perpetual student."

"I wouldn't mind that too much," Tim said and shook Nathan's hand.

"Well, I'm getting tired of paying tuition," Nathan said. "I'll probably finish this up this year. I'm not the one who's been here the longest, anyway."

"Oh? Who has?" Tim asked.

"That would be Eric Rousseau. He's over there in the corner. He's one of the few they admitted from his B.S. and let him just keep on. Even if you discount the four years he spent as an undergraduate, he's been here almost ten years."

"Wow. That's not usual, is it?" Tim asked.

"Not by a long shot. We want to get you guys out into the world to build up our reputation, but Eric's a good student. He's just determined to get everything exactly right. He switched to Charles Ormond as his advisor two years ago. Roger was it before. He threatened that I was next," Sherman said with a smile.

"I don't think he's missed an orientation," Nathan said. "He's great because he knows everything about the department. So if you ever have a question, I'd go to him first."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tim said.

Roger Brown came in, followed by the other faculty. Tim recognized Charles Ormond from his staff photo. He looked at Tim and his expression was deliberately blank. Tim swallowed and sat down by Sherman's other students.

"New faculty, Roger? I hadn't heard," Eric asked, pointing at Tim.

Tim laughed a little, as did Roger.

"No, Eric. This is one of our new students. We'll get to that."

Eric grinned and nodded.

Roger got the meeting started, making announcements, explaining processes and then, he paused.

"Okay. Now, it's time to introduce everyone in this room. It'll take some time as there are a few of you in here, but it's worth it since this might be the first and only time some of you see each other."

There was a round of laughter.

"You think I'm joking, but it's true. We'll start with someone who is an extremely familiar face around here. You'd better get to know him."

Eric stood up and waved.

"I'm Eric Rousseau. My goal is to outlast all the faculty until they can't remember why I'm here."

"It's worked already," Sherman said.

Eric laughed.

"I've changed my area of focus a few times. I'm onto network security, but I was doing machine intelligence before."

He sat down and gestured. The next student stood.

"I'm Arnold George," he said.

Tim felt like he was looking at himself about fifteen years ago. A little overweight, a lot nervous about everyone staring at him. He cleared his throat...and then, did it again.

"I'm interested in software engineering and I'm not sure where I'll be going with that yet."

"Where are you from, Arnold?" Roger asked.

"Iowa."

"Welcome."

Arnold sat down, looking nothing less than relieved at being done talking. They continued around the room. From Bao Li (from California) to Bob Johnson (from Calgary) to Vallathol Pradnya Amma (from India). Tim was sure that he was going to forget most of these names. There were too many of them all at once.

Then, it was his turn. He stood up.

"I'm Tim McGee. I'm not a faculty member," he said, remembering Eric's guess. "I'm a new student. Uh...I _am_ a bit older than most new students. I've been a federal agent for the last ten years and...uh..."

Tim stumbled a little bit because he suddenly had everyone's attention.

"...uh, I'm going to be working with Sherman Wight and my main interest is in cyber security because of my work as an agent."

Tim nodded and sat down. He smiled at everyone around the room and avoid the look of disdain on Charles Ormond's face. Instead, he looked at the student next to him who stood.

"Lancer Moody. I'm from Utah. I'm really interested in user interfaces, graphics, multimedia, all that stuff. So I'll be working with Professor Brown."

He sat down without much embarrassment. Tim got the feeling that he was really used to introducing himself to people and so it didn't cause him any discomfort. Tim was envious.

They finished going around the room. All the faculty introduced themselves as well and what their areas of specialty were, what classes they'd be teaching. After that, the meeting was adjourned and everyone went to the common room for lunch. Tim wasn't sure how long he'd be able to stay, but he didn't want to leave right after without speaking to people. He wondered if he should just bite the bullet and introduce himself to Charles Ormond. He'd be taking the test set by Charles for his networking course this semester. Tim had decided, with Sherman's approval, that he'd be borrowing trouble to try and sit in on a class Charles taught when he'd likely miss a number of the meetings.

So as the students were walking around, talking to each other, to the faculty, Tim slowly made his way over near where Charles was holding a plate and talking with Jaye and one of the new students.

However, he didn't get very far.

"You're an agent?"

Tim stopped where he was and turned toward the voice. It was Lancer. He looked intrigued.

"Yeah."

"You carry a gun?"

Tim laughed. "Not right now, but when I'm working, yes."

"Have you...ever...killed someone?" The question was hesitant.

Tim thought about Benedict.

"Maybe. We don't know if I killed him. I have shot people before, though. Not the best part of my job."

"Sorry, that was clumsy of me," Lancer said. "I just never expected that there would be an actual federal agent here. I figured we'd all just be computer geeks."

"I'm a computer geek. I have my degrees to prove it. I just do other things, too."

Lancer nodded and smiled.

"I'll keep my eye out for you, then. I can't wait to see what you end up doing. I'll bet it'll be different."

"I don't think I'll be as different as you think I am," Tim said. "My job is unusual, but otherwise, I'm pretty much the same as anyone else."

"Uh-huh?" Lancer asked, looking skeptical. "Well, I'm going to go and make sure other people know who I am. I don't want to get lost in the masses. I don't stand out enough to rely on being known at the start."

Tim smiled. "Good luck."

Lancer saluted him and moved off to talk with some other students. Tim took another step toward Charles and was interrupted again.

"Tim McGee?"

Tim turned.

"Eric."

Eric smiled. "Yep. Sorry for putting you on the spot. I hope you weren't embarrassed or anything."

"Nope. That's pretty mild compared to what I deal with on regular basis. So...you've been here a while, from what you said."

"Yep. I did my BS here and my MS and now my PhD. I just like being here...and I can't decide what I really want. There's lots to learn. I saw you heading over to Charles?"

Tim nodded.

"I wouldn't," Eric said. "I've already had an earful about you."

"About me?"

"Yeah. He's...not so excited about you."

Tim sighed. "I haven't even met him!"

"Doesn't matter. Let me tell you, I like working with Charles. He's been good, but the way he's acting, nothing you can possibly do will make it better. I'd just stay as far away from him as possible. The less he thinks about you, the better. He's already irritated that you're not taking his class and are just testing out of it, but if you took it, he'd just be irritated if you ever missed."

"He's really saying all this to you?"

"Well, not _to_ me. I hang out here a lot. I hear people talking, and he and Sherman have had some real fights about it in the evening when there aren't any other students."

"Man. I just didn't expect this."

"Don't stress about it, too much. It's _his_ problem, not yours."

"Unless he makes it mine."

Tim's phone started ringing. He looked at the display. Gibbs.

"I've got to take this, sorry."

Eric shook his head and gave Tim a thumbs up. He headed over to Arnold to chat.

"Yeah, Boss."

"_Enough talking. We need you back here."_

"Right. Meeting's over anyway. I was just meeting the other students. I'll say good-bye to Sherman and get going."

"_Don't take too long."_

"I won't, Boss."

There was a click in his ear. Tim smiled and hung up. He looked around and found Sherman and hurried over.

"Sherman, I've got to go."

Sherman nodded.

Tim lowered his voice.

"Eric told me that you're still having problems with Charles."

Sherman shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Tim. You can't control it, and I'm well used to dealing with prima donnas. Besides, I've got tenure." He smiled. "Go on. Do your job. I'll intervene when needed."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Tim hurried out and back to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How was your little meeting, McGrad Student?" Tony asked as they headed out to the truck.

"Tony, you're really reaching," Tim said with a grimace. "And it was fine. One of the professors hates me already. I'm right on schedule."

"Hates you?" Ziva asked. "Why?"

"Because I exist, apparently," Tim muttered. "That's all some people need."

"But why you?" Tony asked. "Does he hate all newbies?"

"Just the ones who aren't typical grad students and could get a letter of recommendation from someone who wouldn't write one for him."

"Huh?"

Tim sighed. "James Mallon, my Master's advisor, he doesn't tend to care about real people all that much. He doesn't write many letters of recommendation, but I'd had a good experience with him; so I thought I might be able to risk it. He was really happy to and apparently, the letter was glowing. This professor went to MIT, too, and couldn't get Mallon to write a letter for him." He shrugged. "So he doesn't me like me."

"That is rather petty, is it not?" Ziva asked.

"That's more than petty," Tony said. "That's mean! Who is he? We'll talk to him for you."

Tim laughed. "No, Tony. I don't need you to do that. My advisor is great and he's already gone to bat for me a few times. I'm just going to avoid him as much as possible and it'll be fine."

"Are you sure this is what you want, McGee?" Ziva asked. "This is sounding like more and more trouble the more you learn about it."

"That's the only trouble there is, Ziva. The rest is just going to be hard work. And I'm fine with that."

"Very well."

"Come on, guys! Just think about how much better-equipped I'll be to do my job after this!"

"You are already well-equipped, McGee," Ziva said. "I do not see the need to do more."

"I guess that's just the difference between us, Ziva. There's never a point at which I'll feel like I've learned enough."

"Just don't let it all take over, Probie," Tony said. "If you want to be this uber mega geek, that's fine, but you know that you do a lot more than that."

"I know, and after all this, I'll be able to do even more."

Tony laughed. "I can see your head swelling to accommodate your brain as we speak."

Tim laughed, too.

"You'll see. This will only make what I can do better than it was before. You'll see."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Two months later..._

Tim heard a beeping sound and tried to figure out what it was. He pulled himself out of the program he'd been working on for the last month and looked around.

Then, after a few seconds, he looked at his watch. It was beeping at him. That meant it was midnight and he needed to stop working so that he could go to sleep. He groaned.

"Jethro, I'm not sure if I can keep this up," he said.

He looked over and Jethro was already asleep. Tim sighed.

"I just need another night and I'll have this down. Maybe I should just stay up and finish it."

Even as he said it, though, he knew he couldn't. He had to work tomorrow. He needed to get to bed. He couldn't stay up and get no sleep and then expect to keep awake all day tomorrow. He would have been done already, but he had lost a night of work when the case they were working on had become urgent. If he didn't finish the program tomorrow, he'd _have_ to stay up all night because he had to get it done. But for now, he'd stop and be done.

His back was aching. Being a grad student was bad for his posture.

He stood and stretched and then stumbled into his bedroom. He kicked off his slippers and fell into bed without thinking anymore.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Morning came much too soon. Tim felt groggy as he tried to wake himself up along with his alarm.

Jethro came running into the room, happy to help Tim get going.

"No, Jethro. How can you possibly be so peppy?" Tim moaned as he sat up.

Jethro barked at him, eager to get Tim moving.

"I wish I could complain about this to someone, but I can't. I chose this course, Jethro. This was my decision. A lot of people tried to tell me I should do something else. Since it's just as hard as I thought it would be and probably as hard as they thought it would be, too, I'll just have to suck it up and deal with it. ...but man, I'll be glad when this first year is over. Even with the independent study courses I'm doing, this is still killing me."

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling...until Jethro started whuffling at him and nudging his legs with his nose. Tim laughed and sat up.

"Okay, okay."

Tim stood and got his running clothes on. Then, he took his dog outside for a quick run. He couldn't take too much time because he needed to get to work and set a search going. Soon, he'd have to start scheduling time to study for Charles' exam. He'd already got hold of a syllabus and was going through all the topics of the class. It was a relief to realize that he remembered a lot of it.

But he wasn't going to leave anything to chance. With Charles not liking him, Tim felt that he had to perform perfectly on his exam. Anything less would be a failure. That would mean studying. And more studying. The other two exams he had to take would require studying, too, but he wasn't worried about them. For one thing, one of the exams was being set by Sherman. The other by Roger Brown. They had both been great to work with, and the one course he was actually sitting in was taught by Sherman as well.

After he and Jethro got back from the run, Tim got ready quickly, made some coffee (black), and then headed in to work. Once he got to NCIS, he sat down at his computer and quickly set up the search parameters. As he watched it begin, he could still feel that edge of tiredness. This would take some time. No one would be here yet. He could get a short nap in before it was done.

That seemed perfect. Tim pushed his keyboard to the side and pillowed his head on his arms. He was asleep in less than a minute.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony glanced over as he walked in and saw Tim zonked out on his desk. He deposited his bag and didn't make any noise. He just sat down at his computer and got started. The elevator dinged and Ziva got in.

"Good morning," she said.

Tony was about to shush her, but it was too late. Tim heard and sat up quickly.

"McGee!" Ziva said in surprise. "I did not see you. Were you sleeping?"

"Just while the search was running," Tim said blearily. "Is it done? What time is it?"

Tim looked at the clock on his computer.

"McGee...this seems to be a bad sign. You should not be this tired for work," Ziva said.

"I've only been asleep for about fifteen minutes, Ziva. It's not a big deal. I planned it because the search was running. It's not like I fell asleep because I couldn't stay awake."

"You have been working so hard. It is like you have no time for anything except work."

"It's only for the first year. Then, I'll just be researching for my proposal and my dissertation. I can do that anytime."

"McGee!"

Tim stood up when Gibbs said his name. Gibbs said nothing else. He just gestured to the elevator. Tim sighed and walked over. Tony looked toward Tim as the doors closed.

"Boss, it was only for fifteen minutes!"

Then, the elevator dinged. Ziva took the opportunity to walk over to Tony.

"I am worried about him," she said openly. "I do not understand why he is insisting on doing both at once. It is exhausting him, and it is unnecessary."

Tony leaned back and smiled.

"It's obvious why he's doing it," he said.

"Is it?"

"Yeah. Tim is worried about losing his job if he takes the time off."

"He would not get fired."

"If he didn't do both, he'd have to take a full year off. We'd have to have a temporary agent assigned to our team. What if that agent worked better than he did? He might get shuffled to the side. What if there were budget cuts? We've had so much trouble with the budget the last few years...an agent on long-term leave would be the easiest one to cut. McGee is scared of losing his job. If he stays and runs himself ragged, he'll be miserable but he'll still have his job. He's said more than once that he would rather give up the Ph.D. than working at NCIS. He's going to do both, though. He's a geek. He's not going to give up either one."

Ziva's eyes were a little wide. Tony grinned.

"What?"

"I had no idea you were capable of such astute observations, Tony," she said with a teasing smile.

"You never know."

She sobered slightly.

"Do you think he will go too far?"

"I don't think he'll _try_ to, but he might all the same."

"Then, we will have to watch him."

"Sure," Tony agreed. "And Gibbs won't let him go too far, either."

"I am sure that is the subject of their conversation," Ziva said.

"Yeah. But he'll still manage to appear out of nowhere; so I'm going to get to work. I'm not going to ruin my track record with a head slap."

Ziva smiled, leaned over and gently patted Tony's cheek.

"I will let you get back to work."

Tony chuckled and looked at his computer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"It was only fifteen minutes," Tim said again, after the doors closed.

The elevator stopped.

"Why are you doing this, McGee? What's the point in trying to do all this at once?"

"I'm fine, Boss! I have a strict schedule I'm following. I'm not letting myself stay up past midnight so that I can get to sleep. This was just a little nap to supplement my sleep."

"You don't have to do it this way."

"Yes, I do. I'm not giving up my job for this, Boss. The only time it'll be this crazy is this year when I have courses to do full time. Next year, there will be a couple of courses and the rest of it is just research which I can do any time that I have available. The semester will be over in a few weeks and I can go back to my regular schedule for a little while. The stuff I'm learning right now is mostly refresher stuff that I learned before with a little bit more added to it. It's fine, Boss. I'm tired, but I'm fine! I've got some tests in a few weeks and I need to study for them, but I'm feeling pretty good about them. Right now, I'm just working on a program for one of the courses I'm taking. I had the time and I decided to grab a few minutes to nap while I was waiting for the search to finish running. I knew it would take time to finish it. It's okay!"

Gibbs stared at him without speaking for a few minutes. Tim bit his tongue and kept himself from launching into another defensive speech.

"I want you to promise me something," he said finally.

"What?"

"If you come to work and you're not ready to be working in the field, you tell me. Because if you're not fit, you're not only risking your life, you're risking ours, too. You tell me and I'll trust you."

"Okay, Boss. I will."

Gibbs skewered him with a look.

"Are you fit to be in the field today?"

"Yes," Tim said. "I'm fine."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"I am! I'm fine, Boss."

"Okay."

Gibbs started the elevator going again.

"If you're not..."

"I'll tell you," Tim promised.

The doors opened.

"Good."

That was it, and Tim went back to his computer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was another late night, and Tim was definitely feeling it, but he _had_ to finish his program that day. He'd have to turn it in, finished or not, on Saturday. It was Friday at nine by the time they were able to get away.

"Tim?" Gibbs said.

Tim paused and looked back.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Come in late tomorrow."

"You sure? I can make..."

"Come in late."

Tim nodded and then chanced a smile.

"How late?"

Gibbs smiled and didn't answer. Tim got it. Not _too_ late, but late enough that he could make up some of the sleep he had missed out on already.

He gathered his stuff and left the building.

"Tim! How's the program going?" Abby asked, pouncing on him as he left.

"I have to get it done tonight, Abbs, but I'm pretty sure I'll do it."

Abby scrutinized him.

"You look really tired, Tim."

"I'm a little bit, but I got permission to be late tomorrow."

"Really?" Abby looked, frankly, quite impressed. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to get my program done tonight; so I'll be glad to get the chance to sleep."

Abby laughed. "Then, I won't keep you anymore. Go home and save the world, Tim!"

Tim laughed in reply. "I'm not saving the world. Just writing a program."

Abby kissed him on the cheek.

"Go for it, Tim. You're my hero."

Tim bowed and walked to his car. He was smiling as he pulled out of NCIS and headed home. And then he hit a traffic jam. It surprised him because it was after nine p.m., but there was some kind of accident that had blocked the road, confining traffic to one lane. Tim groaned. He had thought that he would safe taking highway 29 to get home. But he was forced to stop and wait. There was nowhere to turn off. After about fifteen minutes, he was able to drive forward. He crept forward until a road presented an escape. He took the option and started to make his way home again. He got onto Capitol Street and headed north again.

But the waiting had left him feeling really tired again.

Suddenly, there was a blare of horns and Tim came awake, not even aware he'd fallen asleep. He swerved back into his lane and then pulled over as soon as he could. After he got his car stopped, he leaned on the steering wheel, feeling his heart pounding.

_How did I get _that_ tired that fast?_ Tim wondered to himself. He had felt drowsy, but not so tired that he'd fall asleep while driving.

After a couple of minutes, he was calm enough to drive, although he was no longer drowsy. The adrenaline was pumping.

He got home without further mishap and went inside. Jethro started jumping around happily. Tim smiled and quickly took his dog outside. They didn't hang out long, though. Tim had too much to do, and it was late.

Then, before he started working on the program again, he sat down and pulled out his phone. He called Ducky, wanting to ask his advice about what had just happened...and he didn't want anyone else to know.

"_Hello. This is Dr. Mallard."_

"Hi, Ducky."

"_Timothy, what can I do for you?"_

"I have a question...and, uh, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't share it with anyone at NCIS."

"_Of course, if you feel it necessary."_

"I...uh...I fell asleep while I was driving home, tonight."

"_Oh, dear. Are you all right?"_

"Beyond that my heart is about to beat right out of my chest, yes, I'm fine. But I didn't realize that I was so tired, Ducky. I...I felt tired but not fall-asleep-at-the-wheel tired."

"_It can sneak up on you. I'm glad you're all right. What's your question?"_

"Is there anything that I could...do or take so that I don't have to worry about that? Or should I just take the Metro home until I can get back on a normal schedule?"

"_Are you worried that it will happen again?"_

"Yeah, because it's not going to get any better, not for the rest of this school year. I need to take that into account. I can't risk other people getting hurt."

"_That's good, and I'm sorry to tell you, Timothy, that I couldn't recommend anything beyond more sleep that would remove this as an issue. Anything you did to make yourself more alert would be likely to keep you up long after you wanted to be. So I think that, if you're truly worried about it, that it would be better for you to plan on public transit until you can guarantee more alertness."_

Tim nodded. "That's what I thought you'd say."

"_Timothy, you're doing so much more than you need to."_

"No, I'm doing as much as I need. No more."

"_Only, this is not something you need to do."_

"People keep telling me that, but I feel like I need to, and more than that...even with all this I'm doing, I _want_ to. It's important to me. And things that you have to fight for mean more."

"_True enough. I wish you luck, and do be careful."_

"I will. Thanks, and please don't tell anyone."

"_If you wish."_

"I do."

"_Very well. Sleep well."_

"I will...in a few hours, after I finish this program. Gibbs gave me permission to be late tomorrow."

"_You should count yourself lucky in that case."_

"I do. Good night, Ducky. Thank you."

"_You're most welcome and feel free to speak to me any time you feel the need."_

Tim agreed and hung up. Feeling more calm, just from talking to Ducky, he set the phone down and then turned to his computer. He had to finish this tonight.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

At three a.m., Tim was satisfied with what he'd created. He saved everything in multiple places, not wanting to risk losing all his hard work. Then, he went to bed.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_One month later..._

"So, what fresh misery is on your plate tonight?" Tony asked.

Tim had been fidgeting all day.

"What makes you think there's misery involved?" he asked with a smile.

"Because you're acting anxious and now that I know I was right before, I'm going to stick with it. Come on! Spill!"

"Yes, McGee. It is obvious," Ziva said.

"Well...I'm taking the last of my tests for the classes I signed up for but didn't actully take this semester. I did really well on the other two, but this one..."

"What's it about?"

"Network security," Tim said with a grin at Tony's mock horror.

"Why are you so worried?" Ziva asked. "Is that not what you wish to focus on?"

"It is, more or less, but this class...it's taught by that professor I told you about before, the one who hated me before he even saw me. I just know that I'll have to be perfect in order to satisfy him."

"Do you think you're ready?"

"Yeah, I do, but I'm still a little nervous about it. I've been studying this stuff for the last month. It's almost all I can think about. I just want to get it done."

"You want to celebrate your triumph, Probie?"

"No. I don't want to jinx myself, Tony, and I'm tired. I just want to sleep through the night and come to work tomorrow...and work for the next few weeks without having to worry about school."

"Welcome back to the land of the living?" Ziva suggested.

"Yeah. It'll be nice to be at work. It'll feel like a vacation."

Gibbs strode in and looked at Tim.

"McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Go. Good luck."

Tim smiled.

"Thanks, Boss."

He got up and left.

"He needs time off," Ziva said. "This is unnecessary."

"It's what he wants," Gibbs said. "He wouldn't be happy with anything else. Get your reports done."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim hadn't felt this nervous about a test since he had been an undergrad. He knew, however, that Charles was more than likely going to hold him to a higher standard than anyone else. He hoped that it would all go well. He walked into the classroom.

"Professor Ormond?" he asked.

Charles looked up. Tim had been calling most of the professors by their first name, but he didn't dare be that familiar with Charles. He was always Professor Ormond.

"Tim. Have a seat. Take all the time you need."

Charles handed him the exam and then sat down. Tim was surprised at how reasonable he sounded. Maybe he'd been wrong. With a deep breath, Tim looked down and read the first question.

_Consider the following 2-round authentication protocol..._

Tim felt okay about this. He started working. The first two questions went quickly. They were about what he had expected. Then, he got to question three. He had to read the question three times before he even understood what it was asking. ...and even then, he had no idea how to answer it. He glanced at Charles. He was apparently engrossed in his own work.

There was nothing for it. He had to keep going. It wasn't like he could walk out, but he could see his place in the graduate program falling away.

One hour became two hours...and then, three before he finally admitted defeat and handed it to Charles.

"Thank you, Tim. I'll get this graded in the next week."

"Thank you, Professor."

Tim walked out, feeling lower than he could ever remember feeling. He was embarrassed.

"Tim, what are you doing here?"

Tim looked over. Sherman was coming out of Roger's office. His brow furrowed at the sight of Tim walking down the hall.

"Hi, Sherman."

"What's up?"

"I just finished my test for Professor Ormond's network security class."

Sherman's expression cleared. "Did you have trouble with it?"

"I failed it, Sherman. I know I failed it. The first two questions were fine, but the rest...I felt like I was grasping at straws trying to figure it out." Tim stared at his feet for a moment. "I'm just...I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I was _guessing_ what was even being asked!"

"Come on in to my office, Tim. Let's talk for a second."

"It's late. I don't want to keep you here."

"I'm here already. Come on."

Tim followed. He couldn't remember ever feeling so incompetent when it came to computer work. He had been feeling like he could make it through, but now...

"Have a seat, Tim."

Tim plunked down.

"You're looking a bit rundown, you know."

"I was looking forward to the break."

"So...what happened? I know you did fine on the other tests you took because I set one of them and Roger set the other."

"I don't know. I felt like a complete idiot. I sat down, started working, flew through the first couple and then...it was like the questions were suddenly in a different language. I'd never even heard of some the protocols, and I've been studying this stuff for the last month. I wanted to be sure I got everything right. I had the syllabus. I got the books." Tim leaned forward. "I've done badly on tests before, but not like this. Sherman, I really think that I failed that exam, and I thought I knew what I was doing. And failing a class... I mean, failing in grad school is lower than an A- and I think I literally have an F."

"Hey, Tim...this doesn't sound at _all_ like you. I know you've been working hard. I know the material that he goes over in class. It should be subjects you're familiar with. What were the questions? Do you remember them?"

"Yeah, I remember them...for all the good it does me."

Sherman grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil.

"Here. Write down the ones you can remember."

"Why?"

"Humor me."

Tim shrugged and did as he was asked. He scribbled down the questions that he had tried and failed to answer. When he finished he slid it across to Sherman.

"Sorry. My hands are tired...and my handwriting isn't the best anyway."

Sherman smiled and picked up the paper. His smile vanished rather quickly.

"Are you sure these are the questions on the test?"

"Positive."

"Okay. Tim, I don't want you to worry about this."

"Sherman, I said that if I couldn't hack it that I'd..."

"No, don't worry. You're fine. When did Charles say he'd get the test back to you?"

"Within the week."

"Okay. I have some things I need to do, but I want you to make sure you pick it up when Charles tells you he has it. Then, come to my office. In fact, call me when you're going to get it. I'll want to talk to you again. For now, go home. Sleep. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Sleep and go to work, and don't worry about this. You've told me and it'll be fine."

"It's not fine, Sherman. I'm not exaggerating about my performance."

"I understand that, but trust me."

Tim just nodded listlessly and left the office. He felt almost sick to his stomach at what he had not managed to do tonight. He left the building and headed for the nearest bus stop.

"Hey, Tim!"

He looked over.

"Oh, hi, Eric."

"Bad day?"

"Bad exam. I think I just failed."

"Oh, come on. You didn't fail. You're fine!" Eric said.

Tim just shook his head.

"You look exhausted. Are you really taking the bus?"

"It's better to take the bus than crash my car because I fell asleep at the wheel."

"Point taken. Hey, I'll give you a ride."

"You sure? It's after ten."

"Positive. Where do you live?"

"Silver Spring."

"Oh, that's not very far anyway. Come on!"

Tim was feeling too dispirited to protest. He followed Eric to his clunker of a car and got in. It was quiet for the first few minutes.

"What test?" Eric asked.

"Ormond's."

"I'll bet you didn't fail it. You were on top of everything at that discussion group a couple of weeks ago. If you were around here more, everyone would be hanging on your every word."

Tim shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure I did fail, Eric. I thought I knew what I was doing, but...I sure didn't."

"It'll look better tomorrow. You just need some distance. I've taken lots of tests and some just seem bad when you first finish."

Tim didn't bother to disabuse Eric of that notion. What he said was true, but Tim also knew when he had no idea what he was doing. That was this test. He directed Eric to his apartment and then got out.

"Thanks for the ride, Eric."

"Hey, if you need to commiserate, we're having a post-semester drink at that little bar near campus tomorrow."

"I'll probably be working, but thanks, Eric."

"No problem. Good night."

"Night."

Tim walked into his apartment, took Jethro out, fed him and then sat down on his bed, fell back and stared at the ceiling.

He felt awful.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't sleep well that night. In fact, he spent most of the night, staring at the ceiling wondering how he could have failed so miserably. He had gone in expecting perfection of himself and hadn't even managed a mediocre performance. In fact, with how hard those questions had been, he would have been _happy_ with mediocre.

When he got up, he took Jethro out for a run, fed him, called the dog walker and asked about taking Jethro out in the evening as well so that he could get more exercise, and then, he got ready and headed in to work. The miserable feeling hadn't ebbed much, but he felt a little numb.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva looked up as the elevator doors opened and Tim trudged in. He was only barely on time. There was something different. The tiredness was normal. Tim had been constantly tired since he had been working on two full-time occupations at once, but he'd always had a bit of a spring in his step because he was enjoying what he was doing. While she thought it unnecessary, she could tell how much he liked it.

But that spring was missing. Tim sat down at his desk. Gibbs looked up at him.

"Tim?" he asked, as he did every day.

For the first time, though, Tim gave a different answer. He shook his head.

"No, Boss."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow but Tim said nothing else. He just looked back at his computer.

"Okay."

Then, he walked out of the bullpen. Ziva got up.

"What's wrong, Probie?" Tony asked.

"Nothing," Tim said, although he was clearly lying.

They both hovered over Tim's desk.

"I'm pretty sure I failed my test last night," he said softly.

Tony scoffed.

"Oh, come on. You always think that you're going to fail and you always pass."

Tim was shaking his head before Tony was finished talking. He looked up at them.

"No. Not this time. I've gone into tests before where I was just nervous but I knew what I was doing. I've had tests where I knew that I was going to do badly on them. I've never gone into a test where I was _positive_ that I knew what I was doing and yet when I sat down I might as well have turned in a blank test. That's what happened last night. I did the first two questions without any problem, but after that, I didn't know what I was _supposed_ to be doing, let alone know how to answer the question. I guessed, but some of the protocols were things I'd never heard of! I told Sherman and he said it would be fine, but...but I'm probably going to be asked to leave. My professor will more than likely argue for it and with that kind of a performance... I can see why."

"No way, McGee," Tony said. "No _way_! You're a genius."

"No, I'm not, Tony. I'm smart, but I'm no genius and I guess I've hit my limit."

Ziva shook her head. She might think that this was a mistake, but it was what Tim wanted and she wasn't going to let him beat himself up.

"Have you seen your test score yet?"

"No. I'm sure he'll grade it fast since it'll give him some glee."

"Then, until that happens, there is no reason to think the worst."

"Yes, there is. To inure me to what's coming. So that when Sherman tells me the bad news, I won't be so disappointed."

_Thwack!_

"Hey!" Tim protested.

Gibbs had come up behind him.

"You don't need to assume the worst."

"Maybe not, but I'm pretty confident about it," Tim said. "I couldn't really sleep last night."

There's nothing you can do until you find out for sure," Tony said. "Just wait."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sherman knocked on the door to Roger's office and walked inside quickly.

"What's up, Sherman?" he asked.

"I think we have a real problem, Roger."

"You mean..."

"Not that," Sherman said quickly. "This is about Tim. He took Charles' test last night."

"Oh? And?"

"And he says that he probably failed."

Roger's eyebrows went up.

"Really? That surprises me. I guess it's..."

Sherman handed Roger the page of questions Tim had written.

"These are the questions Tim said were on the test."

Roger looked at it and then he gestured for Sherman to sit.

"Is he sure?"

"I saw him right after he finished. He happened to be coming out of the room when I was leaving your office. He has a good memory."

"There's got to be a mistake."

"I'm sure that's what Charles will say."

"You're skeptical?"

"Yeah, I am. I think he did this on purpose."

"But if you're right, it couldn't work since Tim told you."

"I'll bet Tim wouldn't have if I hadn't seen him. He would have been too embarrassed to confess it. And Charles could rely on the possibility of an accident being a valid excuse for what happened."

"There's no way we can be sure of it."

"Of course not, but Charles will us this as a reason to kick Tim out of the program. You know he will."

Roger sighed and nodded.

"Have you seen his grade yet?"

"No. I don't think it's been graded yet."

"Okay. I'll talk to Charles, urge him to get the test graded as soon as possible. If you're right, he won't have a problem with that. Once he's done that, we'll have Jaye look at it and evaluate it since she does the upper-division course. I don't want _you_ getting involved in this first part, though. Understand?"

"I understand. But you know as well as I do that this was intentional."

"I have to give him the benefit of the doubt, and _you_ know that."

Sherman nodded reluctantly.

"I'll do my part, Sherman. Don't worry about that. Let's just figure this out and get things as they need to be for Tim."

"As fast as we can," Sherman said. "He's convinced that he's out. That's not good for anyone to deal with."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Two days later..._

Tim's despondency had mellowed, but his disappointment in his own performance hadn't ebbed a jot. He was just waiting for Sherman to call him back in and tell him that it was too bad but he just wasn't grad school material. Even Abby had given up trying to tell him that it might not be as bad as he thought it was. If Tim had been at all uncertain about his performance, he might have been persuaded, but he _knew_ that he had not performed well. Since he knew that much, it was hard to say that it wasn't bad. He had failed, and that was that. Not all the pep talks in the world could change it.

But Gibbs wasn't ready to let that stand. Whether it was as bad as Tim thought it was or not, this attitude was poisonous and that was something to deal with right away, not later on when they knew all the answers.

"McGee! With me," he said gruffly.

Tim stood and followed him to the elevator, but Gibbs was going to shake things up a little bit. He didn't want Tim on a sure footing that would allow him to fall back on canned answers. So he sent the elevator down to the main floor and then led Tim out. He could see the surprise on Tim's face, but to Tim's credit, he didn't say anything. He just followed.

"Have a seat, Tim."

"What is it, Boss?"

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow. Tim wasn't stupid. He understood and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Boss. I just really thought that this was something I'd do well. After I finished the GRE and did so well...I figured that it was just a matter of getting back into a groove. School is always something I excelled at. To have this kind of a...a failure."

"It's not a failure."

"Yeah, it is. Maybe, with the two questions I actually understood, I'll get a D- instead of an F, but, Boss, I'm supposed to maintain an A- average. They'd be understanding with the occasional B, but an F? Even a D-? No. Even with Sherman pulling for me, they'll have to..."

_Thwack!_

"Don't look at it that way."

"What way?" Tim demanded. "The realistic way? I should have stars in my eyes and pretend that I'm really a closet genius? That I'm just misunderstood? Boss, I know I'm not. I'm smart, but obviously, not smart enough for this."

"No!" Gibbs said. "Whether you passed or not, that doesn't mean you're smart or dumb. If you start like this, you're going to start questioning everything you do and I don't have time to deal with that."

Tim smiled a little and then, he sighed again.

"I hear what you're saying, Boss. It's just hard to accept that. Can you understand why?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Gibbs suggested drily.

"It's because academics...education...school...whatever you want to call it, it's what I've always been good at. I've always felt confident about my ability to succeed in school. I get nervous and expect too much of myself, but I know that I have the ability required. It's NCIS that's always been the struggle for me, the challenge." Tim looked at the building. "Now, suddenly, I'm seeing myself as _not_ good at school, but that hasn't been compensated by some excelling in my work as an agent. I'm good at it, but I don't excel, not in the agent part, just in the computer stuff. But I'm not even _good_ at what I wanted to do! And what I wanted to do was supposed to be good for work and just straight academics. So...what now?"

"Now, you get back to work and don't worry about a grade on a single test," Gibbs said. At the same time, he was surprised at how Tim had categorized himself. It was almost like he saw NCIS as an unexpected graft, even though he'd always talked about it as something he'd planned on doing.

"But..."

"But nothing. I said it in my letter of recommendation. I don't think the Ph.D. is important for you to do your job better. You already do more than I would have expected. How good you are isn't determined by this one grade in this one class, even if it _does_ mean you're out of your program. It's determined by what you do with your life, and I think you're doing fine."

That was it. Gibbs could see that there was no more talking about it for now. Tim needed to think about what he'd said. He got up. Tim followed suit but then stopped when his phone rang.

"McGee. Oh...hi, Sherman."

Tim looked at Gibbs and took a deep breath.

"Okay. Yeah, I'll stop by after work today. Right. Thanks." He hung up and looked at Gibbs, clearly nervous. "Sherman says that my test has been graded and that he picked it up from the office. He wants me to come in tonight and talk with him about it."

Gibbs nodded without commenting on it. Tim wouldn't care about what Gibbs had to say. He had already put himself in the corner. Only a final statement from his advisor would do anything for him, and thankfully, he'd be getting that tonight.

"Then, come on. There's work to do," he said.

Tim nodded and followed him back inside.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You'll be fine, McGee!" Tony called after Tim as the elevator doors closed.

Tim glanced his way and Tony gave a thumbs-up sign. A slight smile. That was all. After he was gone, Tony looked back at Gibbs.

"Did he say anything?"

"Nothing in particular. He doesn't know," Gibbs said.

"I hate seeing him like this," Ziva said. "It is wrong the way he is being yanked around."

"Jerked," Tony said.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because you've been in this country for years and you still can't get the idioms right?"

"How many languages can _you_ speak fluently, Tony?" Ziva asked.

"I can speak Spanish."

"When you have spent time learning to communicate in four others and have them perfect, then you may come back and expect me to get all the idioms correct. Until then, you will have to deal with the occasional slipup!"

Tony raised his arms in surrender.

"In any case, I think that it is not fair."

"Probably not," Gibbs said.

"Definitely not," Tony added. "I think I'd rather see him tired than so down."

"I think he would rather _be_ tired than feel the way he does," Ziva said softly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked to Sherman's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in, Tim."

Tim smiled and walked in. Sherman smiled sympathetically.

"I can see that you didn't listen when I said not to worry."

"That was asking a bit too much," Tim said.

Sherman chuckled.

"I guess so. Here's your test."

"Why did _you_ pick it up? I thought I was..."

"Because I've been doing what I told you I would. I was looking into it."

Tim looked at his test and swallowed when he saw the large D written at the top. He managed a weak smile.

"I didn't get an F. Must have been those first two questions where Professor Ormond wrote that I was overdoing it and showing off."

"You did miss most of the questions, but Jaye is thrilled. She wants to take you from me."

"What?"

"These questions that you couldn't answer, Tim, are not the questions from Charles' network security course, or at least not from his first-year course."

Tim felt his brow furrowing.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that they're from a special topics course that Charles created for his students who are almost ready to defend. It's actually a really good idea. It's a combination of independent research and teaching. It's taken basically as the last course before they defend. No wonder you couldn't answer all these questions. They're for students three years ahead of you! But Jaye was really interested in your technique."

"Technique? I was guessing!"

"From a position of some experience and knowledge. No, you didn't get it right, but your technique was interesting and shows that you have a lot of potential."

Tim found that he couldn't get his mind around that part of what Sherman was saying. He decided to focus on the rest of it.

"How in the world did Professor Ormond do that?"

"He claims it was an accident. He has multiple versions of the test he gives his first-year class. He says that he picked the questions, but that he had opened his test for this advanced course on accident."

Tim nodded, but he felt like Sherman _wasn't_ saying something more.

"You say he claims it was an accident. You don't think it was?"

Sherman took a breath and then shook his head.

"No, I don't. I think he did it on purpose because if I hadn't seen you, you wouldn't have told me about this, would you."

"Probably not."

"Exactly. He could have pushed for your dismissal from the program and, without any explanation, it could have happened."

"But I did talk to you."

"And how have you been feeling?"

"You don't really need to ask, do you?" Tim asked.

"No, not really. He's knocked you down a few pegs and that's something he can still be happy with...if that's really his goal. Which is why I'm also telling you that Jaye wants to have you take her class next semester instead of the test from Charles' other class. We're done with that. Obviously, it won't work. You don't need to deal with that kind of aggravation more than once."

"Once was enough," Tim agreed.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I really thought that Charles could maintain some professionalism. We can't prove that it wasn't an accident. He says it was, and he's not fighting what Jaye wants to do."

"Which is?"

"Give you another test, at your convenience, that is actually geared toward the level we expected for a first-year graduate student."

"Another test?" Tim groaned, but at the same time, the cold knot in his stomach was starting to loosen.

"Yes, another test. We can't leave it with the D, but we can't just assume that you'd ace it, either."

"I probably wouldn't."

"But Jaye's going to use Charles' syllabus and make the test herself. She'll probably want to get together with you at some point before you retake the test just to make sure that you're on the same page."

Tim nodded, feeling the knot loosen more, but at the same time, still feeling bewildered at what had happened.

"Tim, I know this isn't what you wanted. I know it's nothing you've asked for. I'm sorry about everything that's gone wrong."

"It's not _your_ fault. I really never expected to have this kind of thing happen. I would have thought that professors would..."

"Unfortunately, we're still human and you've seen that in the worst way. It's no excuse. He's in a position of power over his students and I'm pretty sure he abused that power. We're going to keep that in mind and we'll keep you out of his path as much as we can. So...if I tell you not to worry now, will you listen?"

"I can try," Tim said. "I think I need some time for this to...sink in."

"Well, you have one more exam left, besides the one you'll retake. As your advisor, I advise you to take some time off after this. Take time off work if you can, but if you can't, set all this aside for a couple of weeks and don't think about it. Relax while you can."

Tim smiled.

"I'll work on that. Thanks, Sherman. Really. I can't imagine having to deal with this kind of thing long term."

"I would hope not."

Tim stood up, shook Sherman's hand and then left. He was still shocked by the sudden shift in his fortunes. It was a rapid change from failure to surprising success. He still had the D which had somehow become a good thing.

All in all...a crazy day, but he was about ready to accept that it was a good kind of crazy. As he headed for the stairs, he saw Eric and waved. Then, he saw someone sitting on the stairs.

"Arnold, right?"

The person jumped and looked up.

"Tim...McGee...the agent."

Tim smiled and nodded. "Right. What are _you_ doing here so late?"

Arnold sighed.

"Trying to catch up. I got sick a couple of weeks ago."

Tim sat down beside him.

"How sick?"

"I have diabetes, and usually, I have it under control. I'm really careful about stuff, but...I had a bad bout of gastroenteritis. I managed to soldier through it, but..."

"What?"

"It was my first time with something like that and it caused something called diabetic ketoacidosis. Normally, I'm really on the ball with any kind of insulin issue, but this time, with the GE. I just didn't notice. I spent some time in the hospital. DKA can be fatal if it's not treated. So I missed some class and I need to catch up. I was just sitting here wondering if I can do it."

"How much do you have to do?"

"Charles' test is coming up, but I haven't been able to catch up in that class at all. Something had to fall, and that was it."

"Oh, that's too bad," Tim said. He paused and, maybe it was the similarity that he seen on that first day, but he suddenly said something more. "Hey, I'm going to be studying to take a test for that course. I have a Sunday off this weekend. You want to try working on stuff together? A kind of mini-study group?"

Arnold's face lit up.

"Are you sure? It would be really nice to be able to bounce some ideas of someone else and see if I'm getting. Charles is great, really knowledgeable and everything, but...he's so...intimidating. I don't dare bother him."

Tim suppressed his thoughts about Charles.

"I don't blame you. Sunday?"

"Yes."

"I can't guarantee that I won't get called in to work, but in the morning, I should be fine."

"Great. I'm an early riser."

Tim smiled.

"Okay. Seven?"

"Sure."

"See you here, then?"

Arnold nodded and smiled. Tim stood and headed down the stairs, feeling better than he had before. It was a way of reclaiming some of his self-confidence, maybe, but he was happy to study with someone else, make some ties with the department.

As he left, he was a little tired but he felt a lot better and he stayed awake all the way to his apartment. Jethro was frisky; so he took him out. They played in the park for a while and then went home.

Tim found it easy to get to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"...and so I'll have to take another test to make up for this one, but I'm okay!" Tim finished.

Abby hugged him tightly and then reached over and turned her music back on. Tim was actually happy to hear it.

"Good! Tim, you were looking so depressed the last few days. I'm really glad that you're okay again."

Tim hugged her back.

"I am, too...and I'm relieved, too. This was so...so strange. It's not like I did anything. I just showed up and he hated me."

"Don't worry about it, Tim," Abby said. "He's obviously a jerk and if you would tell us who it was, he'd be regretting messing with our geek."

Tim smiled. "That's why I'm _not_ telling you who it was. I'd rather not be abetting a murder."

Abby grinned.

"You know us too well, Tim."

"If I didn't before, I would after this. I've already heard Tony and Ziva threaten to kill him."

"Hey, have you asked your old advisor about him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said that he wouldn't write a letter for this professor. Maybe you should ask him."

"James Mallon isn't really big on chitchat," Tim said. "He prefers communicating with computers."

"It's not chitchat! And besides, you said that he'd asked to keep him up to date on what was going on, right?"

"Yeah, that's true."

"So do it, Tim. I think he'll make you feel better. He'll tell you how much better you were than this stinky professor who tried to make your life miserable and you'll know it's an ego complex, not that you did anything wrong. You're just a genius."

Tim laughed.

"Abby, I'm not a genius. I'm pretty average as far as computer science people go."

"If so...then, why did your advisor give you a letter and not this other professor?"

"I don't know."

"Ha! Ask him."

"You don't even know him, Abby."

"I know all, Tim. Ask him."

"Okay, okay. I'll do that."

"Good. Then, you can tell me what he said."

Tim laughed and kissed Abby on the cheek.

"I will. I promise."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jaye leaned back and let out a whoosh of air. She looked at Roger and Sherman and nodded.

"This is not good, Roger," she said. "There's intent here and it's been repeated. Yes, we kept him out this time, but this could develop into a real problem if we can't figure it out."

"Agreed," Roger said. "With what's at stake, I think we need to keep it to ourselves right now, but if you have any ideas about what we could do next, let me know."

"Absolutely," Sherman said. "We've managed to keep this quiet, but I'm definitely worried about what could happen if it got out."

"Anything else to add?" Roger asked.

"No. I brought it to you as soon as I noticed. We should lock it down completely for now. I don't want to risk it."

"Already done. I locked it down as soon as you told me what you'd found."

Sherman stood.

"Okay. We can leave it there for now, then."

Jaye stood up as well.

"I'll think about what to do next," she said.

Roger nodded and sent them out. Sherman headed for his office, but Jaye caught up to him pretty quickly.

"Sherman."

"What is it, Jaye?"

"I'd like to talk to you about Tim, if you have a couple of minutes."

"Sure. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly."

Jaye laughed.

"You're too nice a guy to be the spider, Sherman...but your wife must be a saint."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you seem to be here every night."

"I'm not, but the last couple of months, I've been here more often. I have an article that I _need_ to finish."

"And there's Tim."

"He's actually not very demanding as a student. I could do a lot worse, and I'm not sure I could do much better."

"So you won't give him up to me?"

"Unless he expresses an interest in switching."

"Okay. This test..."

"Just follow the syllabus that Charles made. There's no reason to go really _easy_ on Tim. He's more than capable, but he's going to be anxious. I can tell. He's in the once-bitten-twice-shy mode."

"I don't blame him. I'm not sure I'm ready to believe that Charles did this on purpose, but whether he did or not, everyone in the department knows that he doesn't want Tim here. That's a bad situation all around. It won't be good for either of them to put Tim in his classes. I hope you weren't planning on having Charles on his committee."

"Are you kidding? No way. I was going to ask you, actually."

"I'm not opposed. Has he said anything about my offer to have him in my class next semester? I have another student who'd prefer the evening; so I've put it on the schedule that way."

"I mentioned it, but he was still having trouble wrapping his head around everything. When you meet with him on Monday, I think you should bring it up again."

"Will do. I'm sorry he had to deal with something like this, and that comment Charles wrote about Tim showing off was out of line."

"Roger has already talked to him about that part."

Jaye started to stand but then sat back down.

"Have you thought about what Tim's dissertation might end up being?"

"Not particularly yet. He's expressed interest in cybersecurity, breaking ciphers, stuff like that. It's not necessarily my area, but I can get him started."

Jaye leaned forward.

"What if _we _used him? I mean, he's more than capable as you said, and he'd have a perspective no one else in the department has."

Sherman sat back and looked at Jaye speculatively.

"That's a thought and one I definitely hadn't thought of."

"He's got clearance. He'd have to with his occupation. We'd just have to read him in, and that would be the perfect chance for us _and_ for him."

"That might work. I'll think about it and talk to Roger. We don't want to push this on Tim too soon. Give him some time to wind down after this most recent debacle."

"Of course. I'll see him on Monday and we'll get this semester finished up, the sooner, the better. Good night, Sherman. Don't sleep at your desk."

"Wouldn't dream of it. My back would kill me...and so would my wife."

Jaye laughed and left the office. Sherman sat back and considered. It was an intriguing idea, and if Tim was amenable, it could be the perfect opportunity. It would get him his degree. He'd be safe from Charles. And no one could say they were being too easy on him.

If Tim was willing...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked into the department Sunday morning and headed for the common room. Right now, the whole place was pretty empty, but he could see a light on; so he headed on in.

Arnold was already there, sitting on a couch with his laptop out, but he wasn't alone.

"Hey, Tim. Lancer's in this class, too, and I told him we were going to study. He was happy to join us. I didn't think you'd mind."

Tim shook his head.

"Nope. The more, the merrier," he said.

He pulled out his own laptop and they got going.

"Let's start with the homework questions," Lancer suggested. "Charles said they'd probably be similar to the stuff on the test."

"I don't have those," Tim said, "but it sounds good to me. Bring them up."

Lancer and Arnold brought up the homework assigned and they started looking through the material.

"How about this protocol using the Diffie-Hellman parameters?" Arnold asked. "I missed that stuff in class."

"Sounds great," Lancer said.

They all leaned over and started working together. As they studied, Tim found that it was really nice to work with other people. Others trickled in as the morning progressed. A few started working on their own things. Eric came in around eleven and started working on his own stuff. Being such an advanced student, he didn't have much to do with the lower division courses, but people would often ask him for help and he was always willing to do his part. All in all, Tim felt like he was truly back in college, for about the first time.

...but it couldn't last.

His phone suddenly rang and he saw that it was Gibbs.

"I have to take this."

Arnold and Lancer both nodded in understanding. Tim got up and walked over to the corner.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"_Where are you, McGee?"_

"I'm on campus, studying."

"_We need you to track down an email location or whatever."_

"I'll get there as soon as I can."

"_No. Not enough time."_

"What's going on?"

"_Bomb threat on the Barry. We have people going over it, checking it out, but the size of it, if it's real, could damage NCIS, too."_

"How long do I have?"

"_Thirty minutes."_

"Oh. Abby?"

"_Gone, remember?"_

"Oh, yeah. Okay. Send me all the information. I'll get right on it. ...uh...do you want me to try and keep this secret? A lot of the students are here."

"_No. No time. Just do it. Twenty-nine minutes left."_

"Okay."

Tim hung up and hurried over to his laptop.

"What's up, Tim? You have to go?" Arnold asked.

"No. There's no time. I have to track down the IP address of an email sent to NCIS, threatening to set off a bomb."

All the chatter in the common room faded to nothing.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Tim got into his work email and brought up the information Gibbs had sent him.

As was usual for him, once he started working, he tuned everything and everyone else out. In fact, he didn't even notice that the entire room was hovering around him, watching him work, the expressions on their faces could only be described as awe. This wasn't a situation where Tim was working for a grade. This was _real_.

It was important that they find this person because, whether it was a real threat or not, someone threatening the Navy Yard was someone who needed to be stopped before it could get worse. Whoever this was had amazing skills, but Tim was feeling better about what he could do because he'd been steeped in this stuff for the last three months. The track was going all over the world. He'd seen something like this before, the case that had got him on Gibbs' team, but the person was much more skilled than Watson had been. He knew that it was most likely that the culprit was somewhere near DC, but where exactly...that was much harder.

"Wow, Tim. This is amazing!"

Tim heard the voice, but he ignored it. It was more important to find the location. He didn't notice the passage of time, but Gibbs hadn't called back; so he knew he wasn't at the thirty-minute limit yet.

"There it is! There it is, Tim!"

The finger pointed at the location.

Tim nodded, pulled out his phone and called Gibbs back.

"I've got the address, Gibbs. It originated from south of Alexandria. I've sent you the exact location."

"_Got it, McGee."_

"Bomb?"

"_Nothing so far, but we're not taking any chances."_

"You want me to–?"

"_No. We're on it. Thanks. I'll call if we need you to come back."_

Tim smiled. Gibbs never said thanks. He hung up and sat back with a whoosh. Then, he finally realized that everyone was staring at him.

"Wow," Lancer said. "Wow."

"That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen," Pradnya said. "I've never seen the real thing before."

"Why don't you have a doctorate already?" Eric asked.

"Because I never went that far," Tim said. "There's lots I don't know, but there's lots that I've been using. Like that. It was faster than I thought I'd be."

"That's craziness. Total craziness!" Lancer said. "I loved it!"

"You should do a demonstration for the whole department! That was so cool!" Arnold said.

Tim laughed. "I don't pick when the crises come. I just try to survive them."

"Too bad," Eric said. "That kind of thing really would be amazing to demonstrate. Maybe I'll mention it. We could set up some kind of simulation or something."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of performance."

"You could be. All we have to do is make it seem real. You'll completely disconnect."

Tim flushed and chuckled.

"Well, the show's over. You don't have to keep staring."

Everyone else laughed and then gave Tim a round of applause. Tim stood up and bowed floridly. Then, he sat back down and brought up the homework set they had been working on.

"Okay. Let's finish this bunch here. Then, I think we'll call it a day."

"That's fine with me. I've got church in about an hour anyway," Lancer said. "You sure you're ready to come back down to our level?"

"Oh, come on. That was experience, not knowledge."

"Okay, okay. We'll stop embarrassing you," Arnold said. "Let's get on these buffer overflow attacks."

"Yes, let's," Tim said.

The crowd drifted away, but Tim noticed the occasional glances in his direction. However, he chose to ignore that and work on the questions. They finished in about half an hour and then, Tim packed up his stuff, planning on heading to NCIS to see what had happened.

"Hey, Tim, where are you headed?" Lancer asked.

"The Navy Yard."

"Could I bum a ride?"

"Sure. Come on."

Tim waved to the others and he and Lancer walked out. As they headed for Tim's car, Lancer seemed to be bursting with a question. Tim worried about the questions Lancer might have. He had already asked one of the more awkward questions.

"Tim?"

_Here it comes,_ Tim thought.

"Yeah?"

"Did you know Charles Ormond before coming here?"

"No. Why?"

"Well...if you don't want to talk about it."

"Why, Lancer?"

"Because he really seems to not like you and I was...wondering why because I can't see that you would have done anything."

"I didn't. I'm just not what he thinks of as being grad school material, and he doesn't like that I'm here."

"Oh. Sorry."

"That's why I'm not taking his class," Tim said.

"I see. Oh, here we are. Just pull over anywhere."

Tim found a place to stop the car.

"Thanks for the ride...and for the show," Lancer said. "I don't care what Charles says. I don't see how having you here could be anything but great."

"Thanks, Lancer," Tim said.

He let him out and then drove to NCIS. When he got there, Tony, Ziva and Gibbs were just arriving...with a suspect in tow.

"Found him?" Tim called.

Tony let Ziva and Gibbs go on in and he jogged over.

"Hey, you're here! We were going to let you have the day off!" Tony said.

"I wanted to check what had happened."

"A false alarm on the bomb, but it looks like it was just a dry run for this guy. Good thing you found him."

"I'm glad I did. That was a tight timeline."

Tony put an arm around Tim's shoulders and directed him inside.

"I didn't really think you'd make it. I guess all that geek stuff you're doing isn't a bad thing after all."

"You thought it was?"

"Well...no one in their right mind _wants_ to go back to school."

Tim laughed.

"I think that I'm in my right mind and I definitely want to go back to school."

"Well, since you're here, Gibbs will put you to work."

"Fine by me. Let's go."

They headed inside, and Tim felt, almost for the first time, that doing both was actually helping him. There was always more to learn, more to think about, but it was actually helping.

When he went home that evening, he felt like he'd got a good day's worth of work.

Now, he just had to make it through the last week before the break.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Tim walked into the department for yet another meeting, this time with Jaye since she'd be setting his new test. He'd only spoken with her once or twice, but he remembered what Sherman had said, that she'd been impressed, even though he'd essentially failed the test. While he failed to see how that could be possible, it was flattering and it gave him the courage to walk with some confidence to Jaye's office.

He knocked.

"Who is it?"

"Tim McGee."

"Oh, just give me a second."

Tim wasn't sure what that could mean, but he waited patiently.

"Come in!"

Tim opened the door.

"Sorry about that, Tim," Jaye said, smiling easily. "I just had to clear away some of my other projects. Have a seat."

Tim sat.

"Okay. So, let's deal with the immediate issue first. Your test. I'm creating it, but I'm using Charles' syllabus." She handed him a few pages. "Look it over and make sure it's the same one you have."

Tim picked it up and scanned through it and then nodded.

"Yeah, this looks the same."

"Good. I've been prepping some questions and if you're ready, we'll do it on Wednesday."

"Okay. I'd like to get this over with."

"I don't blame you. So, that's the first thing. Now, you're going to be needing a course next semester to take the place of the test you would have taken for Charles' course, and I have a course I'll be offering in the evening, and I'd love to have you join us."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Sherman said that you were impressed by my test, but I know that I didn't know what I was doing. If I got anything right it was completely accidental.. I know that I was guessing and that most of the time I didn't even have a clue if I was the right track. Why would you be impressed by guesses?"

"Because your guesses showed innovation. Instead of just giving up, you tried something. That's important in what we do. We don't just type in code and have it work. Sometimes, these things really don't work. Sometimes, what we expect doesn't happen and we have to create something new. You were faced with questions you couldn't have answered given your lack of experience. Instead of just giving up, you tried. You were wrong, but you still tried and some of the things you tried were interesting. Unsuccessful, yes. That's why you're here. If you didn't need the training you wouldn't be here. I like seeing people create new ideas. You're not in grad school to have your creativity stifled. It's to encourage it. That's why I'd like to have you in the class...if you're interested."

"I won't always be able to be in class. Work isn't always regular hours for me. Sometimes, I'm at work literally all night."

"Yes, and you even occasionally have to track down criminals from the common room, I hear."

Tim flushed, but Jaye just smiled.

"I don't mind if you have to miss class. Get the work done, and that's all I ask."

"Okay. I'd love to take your class next semester."

"Excellent. I'll add you to the roll. You just get ready for the two tests you have this week and then let yourself relax over the Christmas break."

"I'll try."

Jaye smiled and stood up. As he shook her hand, Tim was surprised to realize that she wasn't much older than he was. He was used to thinking of his professors as being older...like James Mallon. Jaye seemed to have naturally young features, but she definitely wasn't on the end of her career. She was either at the beginning or just beyond that.

"You do that. I realize that you can't control criminal activity, but Eric told me about your performance. If you ever want to do it again formally, just let us know."

Tim felt the blush start in his cheeks and he cleared his throat.

"I'm not really big on being the center of attention."

"So noted. See you on Wednesday night. If something comes up and you can't make it, let me know as soon as you can."

"Will do."

Tim excused himself and left the office.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next two days were pretty normal as far as his days ever went. There was a lot of work to do at NCIS, and Tim was still working in some study time in the odd moment. He was praying that nothing would come up on Wednesday that would keep him from taking that dreaded test and getting it over with. He didn't say anything to Gibbs about it, but he was praying silently all through Wednesday morning. Abby had bugged him about calling Prof. Mallon, but Tim had decided to wait until all his work for the semester was done. He could just see his old advisor being irritated that Tim was calling him too soon.

"Go on, McGee. Take your test," Gibbs said at about 6:30 that evening.

"You sure, Boss?" Tim asked. That would be leaving early and he didn't need to do that.

"Don't question, Probie," Tony said. "Go before he changes his mind!"

Tim laughed and nodded.

"Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs just jerked his head toward the elevator. Tim grabbed his bag and headed out.

"Good luck, Tim!" Ziva called after him.

"Thanks!"

Tim got on the elevator and decided just to head over right away. He even splurged and took a taxi instead of the Metro. If Jaye was there, she'd more than likely be happy to get the test over with quickly herself.

When he reached the department, it was not especially lively. There was a light on in the common room, but this must be the break for a lot of the students before the last push. Or else they were already done themselves.

He decided to check Jaye's office, first. If nothing came out there, he'd see who was in the common room. As he headed down the hall, he saw the one person he _really_ didn't want to see. He'd managed to avoid Charles since his disastrous first test...and from the expression on Charles' face, he hadn't minded it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Taking a test with Jaye," Tim responded, evenly.

"Oh, yes. Retaking since you couldn't handle it the first time. I knew you weren't right for this department."

"How did you figure that out?" Tim asked, feeling his ire rise a little bit.

"Go running to another professor because the test didn't go your way?"

"You're the one who admitted that you'd mixed up the test. Why would you expect that I could pass a test you set for your most advanced students?"

"You're mixing the issue. As I might have expected. You didn't get what you wanted and so you needed help. Grad students are supposed to be able to work independently. There won't _always_ be someone there to hold your hand and get you into places you haven't earned yourself. Most of us have to _work_ for where we are."

Tim had been raised to respect those in authority, but this was ridiculous. "Look, Professor, if you don't like me, that's fine. I don't have to have anything to do with you. You seem to know your stuff, but if this is how you treat your students then maybe you're in the wrong profession. I _earned_ my place here. I did everything required of me. You might not want me here, but I am, and I'm not going away until I finish what I started...and there's nothing you can do about that, unless you want to cheapen yourself even more."

Charles took a step toward Tim and poked him in the chest.

"Look, you little..."

The door to Charles' office opened suddenly...and there was Eric. He took in the scene and then moved on very quickly.

"Hey, Charles. I got an idea about that new network. I wanted to show it to you before the break. Do you have time right now?"

Charles nodded, but he was glaring at Tim before he turned away. Eric met Tim's gaze for just a second after Charles went into his office.

_Good luck,_ he mouthed and then followed Charles inside.

Tim let out a whoosh of air. He probably shouldn't have risen to Charles' comment, but he just couldn't figure out why this was his reaction to a student who didn't match his expectations.

"Hey, Tim. You're here earlier than I thought you'd be."

Tim turned and smiled at Jaye.

"My boss let me off."

"Great. You ready to get started?"

"Yeah."

Tim shook off the disquiet that Charles gave him and focused on the test he still needed to take. He sat down, feeling more than a little nervous.

"Here you go. Take your time, and don't worry. I double-checked the questions to make sure they fit with the course level."

Tim smiled and picked up the test.

_Given the following information, craft an attack which would allow you to exploit a vulnerability in the bank network and describe the vulnerability you find._

A complex question, but one Tim felt he could manage. He pushed all his nerves away and just started working.

An hour later, he finished off his last question, stretched, and handed it off to Jaye.

"All right, Tim. Thanks. I'll get this graded this week so that you don't have to worry."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"One more test to go. You ready for it?"

"I think so. Unless something comes up, I'll actually be taking it with the class."

"So...do you want to get it over with tonight, too?"

Tim blinked.

"Could I?"

"I'm sure you could. Let me check. Considering that you never know when you'll be called up to work, if you have the time now, it might not be a bad idea...if you're ready."

"I'm ready. I wasn't going to have much more studying time anyway."

"Let me check with Joan. Just sit tight."

Jaye left the room and Tim sat back. He wasn't _excited_ about taking another test, but it would be a distinct relief to have it all done today. He began drumming his fingers on the table while he waited.

When Jaye got back, she had a test in hand.

"Okay. Joan didn't mind, given your circumstances, but she couldn't stay for it. If you don't mind my proctoring your test, I'll give it to you and you can get it done now. I'm not really in her area, but this is stuff I know."

"I don't mind. I feel like I've lucked out so far and I'd rather not risk ruining my streak. ...as long as you don't mind having to stay longer."

Jaye laughed and handed it to him.

"I don't mind at all. If you have any questions, just ask."

Tim nodded and started on the test. It took him close to two hours, but it was great to have it done and know that he had some time off from school, even if time off from work wouldn't happen until Christmas. When he finished, he walked over.

"Here you go. For good or ill."

"It's definitely good. This means the holidays are almost upon us."

"That's a good thing. Definitely."

"Well, have a nice break, however much of one you get with your job."

"Not much until Christmas, but I'll only have one full-time job. That will be nice."

Jaye laughed and shook his hand.

"Enjoy. See you next semester."

"Bye."

Tim left the room and headed for the Metro, happy to think about the fact that he was done for the next three weeks. He was tired, but with the potential to catch up on the sleep he'd been missing.

As he sat on the subway, his thoughts went back to his confrontation with Charles. If Eric hadn't come out at the moment, Tim was sure that Charles would have said some things that he might have regretted later on, but Tim was glad he'd been interrupted. This was ridiculous and he saw no reason to keep it going. He'd said his piece and he was ready to move on, especially since he'd got away from having Charles with any kind of control over him. It was as much of a relief to know that he was safe from that as it was to be done.

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed his stop, but he managed to get off just before the doors closed. He hurried home, took Jethro out, feeling bad about leaving him cooped up for longer than he'd planned. It was only when he lay down to let himself relax before going to sleep that he remembered he had planned on calling James Mallon. After speaking to Charles, he wanted to know more than ever what was going on. He decided to call the next day.

Then, he rolled over and went to sleep. It took only seconds.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was a couple of days before Tim could take the time to call his old advisor. Finally, though, he snuck out of NCIS during his lunch break and took himself to his car. It was too cold to hang out in the park at the moment. It wasn't that he didn't want anyone to know what he was doing, but that he didn't want to have an audience while he fumbled with awkward questions.

With a deep breath, he dialed and listened to the phone ring.

"_James Mallon."_

"Oh...I didn't expect you to answer," Tim said dumbly, before getting his mind back in gear. "This is Tim McGee."

"_Ah, the end of the semester has arrived. How are you finding graduate school?"_

Tim smiled.

"Challenging, interesting. I'm glad I went back."

"_Glad to hear it. Anything take you by surprise?"_

"Not any_thing_, but someone did."

"_In what way? After the kind of scum you've probably dealt with, I'd think academia would hold no surprises for you."_

Tim laughed. That was how he would always remember his advisor. James Mallon had a cynical view of academics, even though he himself was one.

"Well...actually, just one of the faculty. Maybe you know him. He was at MIT."

"_So were a lot of people. I can't say that I try to remember them all. Who?"_

"Charles Ormond."

The silence on the other end of the line was surprising.

"Do you remember him, Prof. Mallon?"

"_Yes. What's surprising about him? I thought he was quite capable."_

"He apparently hates me."

"_What did you do?"_

"I got a letter of recommendation from you...and he didn't."

"_Oh."_

His tone was more exasperated than anything.

"_Are you sure that's why?"_

"Not positively, but he's been...trying to make me fail and just a couple of nights ago, he accused me of not being good enough, of running to other people to get me places I don't deserve to be. I was supposed to take a test for his class to get credit for it. Instead of giving me the test for the class, he gave me a test he sets for his students who are ready to defend and then when I confronted him about it, he accused me of not being independent enough to deal with problems on my own. I never knew him before I started here. He wasn't at MIT when I was, but..."

"_I remember him. I'll be honest. I'm surprised he's doing what you're saying. I believe you, but, well, I didn't think he'd take Kissinger as a model, rather than a warning."_

"Kissinger?"

"_He rather famously said, once, that 'university politics are vicious precisely because the stakes are so small'. And he's right. We think they mean a lot and we scrabble over them, but they mean very little outside the university. This worries you?"_

"Yeah, it does. I mean, I haven't done anything. I've treated him with respect on the few times I've spoken to him. I've been trying my best to diffuse something I didn't even know I set."

"_You didn't set it. If that's what you've been thinking, you can put that out of your mind right now. In fact, don't bother trying to diffuse anything. Avoid him if it makes you feel better, but ignore him."_

"So...could you tell me why you wouldn't write him a letter?"

"_Because I didn't want to."_

Tim sighed. "That's it?"

There was a chuckle. _"Tim, I told you that university politics mean very little, but that means that some people fight all the more for their minuscule piece of the pie. Charles was like that. He's competent, skilled, but I don't write letters for the good students. I write letters for excellent students, and even then, I pick and choose. I can do that at my age. When he went through, I also had told my students that I wasn't writing _any_ letters and so they needed not to ask me for them."_

"But isn't that part of your job?"

"_Yes, but they had the benefit of my name and everyone who knows who I am knows better than to hold my eccentricities against them. I signed off on his work. That's enough when you're me."_

Tim laughed a little. James was so odd at times, but he was honest, too. He knew how well-respected his work was and he used that to his advantage.

"_Obviously, it didn't hurt Charles. He got a tenure track position, but he asked me for a letter and I said no. He was always one of those people who are competent enough but think they're brilliant. He assumed that everyone would fall at his feet and I refused to do so. I was more determined _not_ to write a letter for him simply because he was so persistent. I have things that I want to do with my time, and if I'm not going to write a letter, I'm not going to. I have tenure. I'm old. I don't have anything at stake. Charles is the first one who refused to accept it."_

"Was he that bad?"

"_Let me explain something to you, Tim. You don't know academia like I do. You've been living in a completely different world. I'm sure it has its share of problems, but academia... It is easy to let yourself get sucked into the politics that say you have to scrabble and fight for everything...because, to some degree, it's true. Some academics get into that. I did at the beginning. I didn't really want to be a professor. What I wanted was to do research, but when I went through, I felt I'd be selling out to join a research company...but you have to sell out at least a little bit no matter what. Academia is not somehow secure from working for money. In fact, the money is less available and so it gets worse. When I have students like Charles, I try to teach them to step back and reevaluate. I don't tell them. The good will out as they say. It didn't work for him. He was determined to get what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he didn't want to hear anyone say no. I said no."_

"And you didn't say no to me."

"_Well, I told you before that I enjoyed having you as a student. You were always respectful of me and my time. That makes a difference."_

Tim sighed. "I just can't understand why someone would take it out on me if he's resenting you."

"_Don't lose any sleep over it, Tim. Why does one person react one way and another doesn't? Sometimes, you just don't know. He'll be able to justify it if asked. If he even knows himself why he's reacting to you this way, he'll never tell you. Do you have to work with him?"_

"No. Sherman's been really great to work with and I've got some other good professors. I don't have to deal with him officially anymore."

"_Then, forget it, Tim. Nothing like that is going to make sense to someone like you, especially when you're on the receiving end of it without cause. You're probably better off dealing with criminal scum than career academics."_

"I'm beginning to think so."

"_Have you decided on your project yet?"_

"No."

"_I'll bet Sherman has. If he hasn't told you yet, just wait. It'll come."_

"I'm not sure that makes me feel any better."

"_I'd only feel worried if he _hadn't_ figured out what he wanted you to do. These people don't leave much to chance with students. They shepherd them along into something they want done. If you're lucky, it turns out to be something interesting. Even if you're not lucky, it's still something that will get you your degree."_

"I see," Tim said...even though he didn't.

James laughed.

"_Right. Just be glad that this is only a stop-off for you. You don't need the credentials academia is giving you and that separates you from the others. It's good for you, but just remember that it's not like that for everyone. This is a bad time to be an academic, jobwise. People will be obsessed with getting a job. You don't need to. Be grateful."_

"I hadn't really thought about that," Tim confessed. "I just want to get my degree and learn more."

"_Do that. It's a good idea...especially the learning part."_

Tim smiled.

"Thanks, Prof. Mallon."

"_Oh, stop being so formal, Tim. We're colleagues now, you know."_

"No, I didn't know."

"_Well, now you do. We're colleagues. You're not my student anymore."_

"Okay...should I call you James or Jim?"

"_James. I'm not that informal a person."_

Tim laughed outright.

"_And keep me up on everything, especially when you find out what you're going to do for your research."_

"I will. Thanks."

"_My pleasure."_

Tim said good-bye and hung up. It wasn't what he'd expected, but it was kind of nice to have someone say that it really wasn't his fault, that there had been some kind of problem from the beginning and he just needed to accept it. He still didn't like Charles, although he could sympathize with his frustration...if Charles hadn't chosen to take his frustrations out on Tim.

Still, that was over, at least. If Charles didn't dislike Tim any less, Tim could at least ignore it. Charles had no control over the course of his education and Tim would not go to him for anything.

...and soon it would be Christmas and Tim's first real day off since starting grad school. He had chosen to take three vacation days and go home for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, plus the weekend. He planned to spend a lot of the time sleeping.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's time off was as relaxing as he'd hoped it would be. Sarah was home and he spent hours talking with her, sharing stories about graduate school. They had more to talk about than they ever had because, for once, they were on equal levels, both attempting the same feat, but in such disparate fields that there was no chance of trying to say one was better than the other. Sarah had just gone straight on to grad school and so had the advantage of being in that mode. Tim was coming back at it but with accommodations, given his situation.

His family had sympathized with his run-ins with Charles, and they agreed that the situation was as good as he could expect. It was nice to be home and _not_ thinking about all the juggling he had to do. Once the new year began, he'd be back at it, struggling with too little sleep and too many demands on his time. One more semester of this and then he'd be doing more independent research, requiring fewer absolute deadlines. That's what he kept telling himself anyway.

He went back to DC before New Year's and was getting back into the groove of working at NCIS before the new semester began.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So...Probie..."

Tim sighed. "What, Tony?"

"Are you ready for a new semester?"

"I'd better be. It's starting next week."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What Tony is saying is that he is concerned about your being too tired again as you were before," Ziva said. "He just does not want to admit it."

"Aw, Tony, I didn't know you cared!" Tim said with faux sweetness.

Tony rolled his eyes.

"No evading my point, McGee."

"I'm not evading anything. I said that I'd better be ready because, whether I am or not, it's starting next week."

"Are you worried?" Ziva asked.

"A little, but at least, this time, I won't be dealing with that professor."

"I wish you'd tell us his name," Tony said.

"I know, but I also know what you'd do if I did and so I'm not going to do that. It's better for all of us if this just passes."

"Will he let it pass?" Ziva asked.

"He can't do anything to me anymore. I'm not taking any of his classes or tests and he's not my advisor. I'm barely at the department. If he's not happy about my being there, too bad."

"You go, McGee," Tony said. "And if you need us to talk to him..."

"I'll let you know," Tim said with a smile.

"For now, get to work," Gibbs said, striding in.

Tim smiled at how normal the situation was. He was learning to appreciate these times when he was just doing his job. He didn't regret grad school, but he would be glad to have more time on his hands.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sherman, Roger and Jaye were having a private meeting before the semester started to touch base and make their final decisions.

"So...are you sure about this?" Sherman asked. "If this is what we're going to do, I need to bring Tim up to speed so he knows what to expect."

"I see no reason to change what we decided before," Jaye said. "I graded his test and, if he didn't ace it, he shows a distinct level of skill, and he approaches problems differently, probably just because of his different experiences. I think we need what he can bring."

Roger nodded and sat back, carefully considering the decision he had to make. It came down to his decision because he was the head of the department.

"Any reservations, Sherman?"

"No, unless Tim himself does. I don't doubt Tim will do well, and if we're lucky, he could solve more than one problem for us."

"Okay. Meet with him next week and explain what we'd like him to do. Make sure he understands the importance of keeping this quiet. We can't have this getting out."

Sherman nodded.

"Tim will keep it a secret if he needs to. I don't have any doubt of that."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Tim was running late for his meeting with Sherman. Gibbs had needed him to start a records search running, looking for any discrepancies in their current victim's account. He suspected that there was more to it than just a robbery.

He hurried up the stairs and to Sherman's office.

"Come in!"

Tim opened the door quickly and actually stumbled over a stack of paper on the floor.

"Whoa! No launching yourself out the window just yet, Tim," Sherman said. "Sorry about that. I forgot where I'd tossed those things. My office gets worse and worse as the year progresses. It hits critical mass about April and then implodes."

Tim regained his balance and sank down onto the chair.

"Sorry I'm late. My boss needed me to get some work going before I left."

"No problem. Catch your breath."

Tim did take a deep breath as he set down his bag. He noticed that he'd forgotten to take off his gun again.

"And sorry about this, too," he said.

"It's okay. I'm used to seeing it even if it still surprises me on occasion."

Tim smiled sheepishly.

"Regardless, I'm glad you made it."

"What is it? I thought we had everything set up for this semester."

"We do. This for the rest of your time."

"Oh. James said you would have something in mind for me."

"You've been keeping in touch?"

"Sort of." Tim hitched his shoulder uncomfortably. Even if he knew that there was no validity to Charles' accusation, it still rankled to be accused of running to someone else for help instead of dealing with it on his own. "He'd asked me to keep him up to speed on how things are going."

"And?" Sherman asked with a smile.

"I...I did ask him about Charles."

"And now you understand him?"

Tim shook his head.

"Good. I don't think there's really anything to understand. Just accept that."

"That's what James said."

"Good. I'm glad he did. So...are you ready to hear?"

"Sure. I really didn't think about you giving me my project. I thought I had to come up with it on my own."

"Oh...that can happen and does, but if we can get some work out of you _and_ get you your degree at the same time? All the better."

"Okay. So what is it?"

Sherman became more serious, although Tim could tell it was because of the topic not because Tim was doing something wrong. This was business now, not chatting.

"First, what I'm about to propose to you is voluntary on your part. You can choose to say no and I'll be more than happy to help you figure out another project for your proposal. So, no hard feelings. This isn't required. Second, what I'm about to propose to you is literally classified, meaning that there's no chatting about this with the other students, other faculty or the people you work with."

Tim was startled by that.

"Classified?"

"Yes. We get asked to do classified work for various parts of the federal government. We're right in DC and there's an unending stream of available workers," Sherman said with a smile. "Currently, there are only three of us working on classified material. We keep our work stored on a secure server that we can, if needed, physically disconnect from any wider connections. It's been disconnected for about a month now."

"And here's where you need to know if I'll do it or not?"

"Yeah, although if, once you get the details, you don't think you can, that's fine. This is not a sign-your-life-away situation. I'd rather not have you feeling like you have to do this. But regardless, you can't tell anyone. I'm sure your coworkers have classified clearance, but that doesn't mean they know about every classified project going on."

"Right. I understand," Tim said. "I have to admit that I'm pretty intrigued about what you want me to do."

"Good. I've at least drawn you in. I won't leave you in suspense. Here are the broad strokes. Beginning a couple of months ago, we've had someone trying to break into the secure server. Whoever it is has amazing hacking skills. They are well-trained and they came close to getting in. It seems to be someone onsite, but we don't know that for sure. Tim, we're pretty well-acquainted with computers, with hacking, with security. That's what we do. Whoever this is...they're better than we are, and if we can't get this in hand, the security could be broken. More than that, if it gets out that we can't protect classified data, we'll lose a _lot_ of money in grants. That can be death to a department like ours. We need to keep this quiet until a new security system can be put in place...hopefully, with a component that will allow us to track whoever our would-be hacker is."

Sherman raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Tim understood.

"You want me to design a security system."

"Exactly."

"Why me? As you said, you guys are good at this stuff. I'm still a student. Why would you risk all this money, these projects...on a student?"

"Because you're a different kind of student. Your experience has been hands-on and practical in a way that no one in this department has had. You've learned from actual criminal activity. You've learned by the seat of your pants when you had to because lives were on the line. You'll come at this from a completely different perspective and that's what we need. This person is approaching things the way we'd expect, but he's better. We need someone who can look at this problem from a different vantage point and figure out our weaknesses and make this server more secure. Obviously, nothing is completely secure, but based on what's happening, this could be the best chance we ever get."

Tim mulled it over, trying to analyze what was being asked without too much emotional reaction.

"You need a new security system and one that could track people who try to break in."

"Precisely."

"That's crazy complicated."

Sherman laughed.

"Yes. It would be. You wouldn't be working on this alone, of course. I'd still be your advisor and Roger and Jaye, the others with classified projects, would be the other members of your committee."

Tim was surprised to realize that, while he felt some anxiety about doing it well, that feeling was more muted than he would have thought. Sherman wouldn't ask this of him if he didn't think he could handle it. Too much was at stake. This was a real challenge and one that would help the department, plus give him valuable experience for when he was finished at working only at NCIS.

...but at the same time, not being able to talk about it to anyone would be a bit of a struggle. Abby was the only one who would really be able to understand it, but he wouldn't be able to tell Tony and Ziva about breakthroughs or frustrations. It would be hard having to keep all of that to himself when he had enjoyed the support he'd had from them.

Still, it was a no-brainer, really. Here was a project that seemed perfect for him. It would teach him a ton and the department would get something out of it in the end.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Wonderful. That's great, Tim. Okay, don't worry about it for this semester. We'll start having meetings with Jaye and Roger about halfway through and we'll get your proposal written up the best we can so that you can start the real work. And it will be a lot of work, but I hope it won't be too onerous for you."

"I hope not, too," Tim said, "but this sounds really interesting. I'm actually kind of excited."

"Good. Now, the classified thing still applies."

"I can tell them that my work will be classified, though, right? Because I can tell you right now that saying nothing will be worse than just telling them that I can't talk about it."

"Right. You just can't give them any details, and I mean _no_ details."

"Of course. I've had to do something like that before, but it was worse then because it was work that affected my coworkers, but I still couldn't tell them about it. This time...at least, it's separate...isn't it?" Tim asked, suddenly worried.

Sherman laughed.

"It is. Nothing to do with the Navy."

Tim let out a whoosh of air in relief. That would make it easier to deal with, and if he could honestly say that this was completely separate from his job, his coworkers would have less reason to pester him.

"Good."

"I'll get all the appropriate forms drawn up and we'll give you the details of the server, let you see the structure of the hardware and software...and what our projects are."

Tim nodded. "Okay. I'll start thinking about it as soon as I have details."

"I'm sure you will, but do keep your mind on the stuff you _need_ to get done this semester."

"I will."

Sherman just smiled and stood up.

"I'm more glad than ever that we decided to take a chance on you, Tim."

Tim flushed with pleasure. "I'm glad you did, too."

Sherman shook his hand and shooed Tim out of his office. Tim went home with high spirits and some chagrin that James had been so right about them having a project for him to do. Thankfully, this was something he was interested in doing. It was going to be challenging and difficult and probably would get him wound up before he finished.

All in all, just what he had expected from graduate school.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't mention his classified project to his team at first, mostly because, even though he wouldn't be telling them anything as it was, he knew next to nothing about the project. He only knew that it existed. The semester started and Tim hit the ground running. He was back to his schedule of setting an alarm to keep him from staying up all night working on schoolwork after he got home from NCIS work. He stopped driving his car again, just to be safe. Gibbs reminded Tim of his responsibility to keep him informed of how fit he was to be in the field. There were a few days where Tim knew that he was too tired to be reliable and he told Gibbs that. In general, however, he managed his time efficiently enough that he got through the weeks of work without being extremely sleep-deprived.

But he had a couple of meetings with Sherman, Roger and Jaye and that started his wheels spinning which led to moments of disconnect from reality as he began planning the processes that would be necessary. About halfway through the semester, his friends started to notice his distractedness.

"Hey, Probie! What's up?" Tony asked.

Tim was jotting notes absently on a piece of paper. He didn't even look up. Tony looked over at Ziva.

"McGee, what are you doing?" Ziva asked.

Still no response.

They both got up and walked over. As soon as they got close to his desk, however, he jumped and put the paper away very quickly.

"Hey, what's going on, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim looked a little shifty for a moment and then he laughed.

"I was thinking."

"About what?" Ziva asked. "You look almost like you are guilty of something."

"No, but...I was working on my proposal."

"Your proposal? I didn't know you had something in mind already. You haven't said anything."

"I know...and guys, I won't be able to tell you anything about it," Tim said, looking very earnest.

"What you do mean?" Ziva asked. "I realize that we will not be able to understand it all but..."

"No, it's not because you won't understand it. It's actually classified."

Tony was surprised at that.

"Classified? At a university?"

"Yeah. My project is part of a larger classified project some of the faculty is doing and I'm not allowed to talk about it."

"So...you'll be working on this for how long?"

"A couple of years, probably."

"And you won't be able to tell Abby anything for all that time?" Tony asked, only half-joking.

"No. I won't, but hopefully, she'll be able to accept that I'm not keeping the secret because I don't want her to know. I'm keeping the secret because I have to. She should know about classified material."

"Of course, she does. Does that mean she'll care?" Tony pointed out.

Tim almost rolled his eyes.

"Well, whether she has a problem or not doesn't matter because this is not something I can change. If I let anything out, that will be the end of my Ph.D. There's no way that they'd keep me on if I couldn't follow the rules," he said with more firmness than Tony would have expected.

"Good for you," Ziva said. "Can you tell us when you make progress?"

Tim smiled. "As long as that's all you want me to say."

"I will be satisfied with that. Are you excited about it?"

"Yeah, I am. I think it's going to be great...and hard and it'll drive me crazy, but it's important stuff, not just a project I'm doing to get a degree."

"Cool. I hope it works out for you, McGee," Tony said.

"Me, too. ...and I'll have to stop bringing my ideas to work with me."

"If you want us to restrain ourselves, yes," Ziva said.

Tim laughed. "Right."

He refocused on his computer and got back to work. Tony smiled at Ziva and they followed suit. In a way, even if it was going to be frustrating knowing that Tim wouldn't be telling them anything, it was nice to know that Tim was telling them as much as he could and wasn't hiding anything that didn't _have_ to be hidden.

Two years of work. That was going to be a long time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

As predicted, Abby tried to get Tim to tell her what was going on, but, in spite of her attempt to play down the Secret classification, Tim refused to give in. She pouted for a few days and then just went on. For his part, Tim chose to focus most of his attention on his work. Jaye's course was challenging, but he loved attending when he could.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Tim! Sit over here!" Pradnya said, gesturing. "I wanted to ask you about the secure hash functions before Jaye gets in here and starts asking us about it."

"Oh, I want in on that action," Lancer said and scooted his chair over. "Teach us, Master!"

Tim laughed and sat down. "I'm no expert on this. That's why we're taking the class, remember?"

"That only works until Jaye starts asking us questions, expecting us to know the answers, and you were getting the differential cryptanalysis like it was nothing! And don't think that any of us have forgotten your rockstar demonstration."

Tim waved that away but pulled out their textbook and started going over hash functions with Pradnya and Lancer until Jaye came in to start class.

It was a challenging course, but Tim reveled in it, and he loved working with the other students. He wished that he had more time to take courses in person. When the class was over, everyone walked out together, talking and laughing, even with the late hour.

Eric and Charles came out of Charles' office, and Tim lost his train of thought for just a second. Lancer and Pradnya noticed but didn't say anything until they got outside.

"Tim, what's up with you and Charles?" Pradnya asked. "When he's mentioned you...it's like he's..."

"It's like Severus Snape and Harry Potter," Lancer said and then flushed at Pradnya's expression. "Sorry. I like the series. The books, not the movies."

"Professor Ormond doesn't like me. It's not anything I've done, and it's nothing I can fix. I just ignore it. So far, it's working for us to ignore each other."

"But he's not really ignoring you," Pradnya said. "It's like he thinks of you as the example of what students _shouldn't_ be...but you're a good student and you're helpful when you can be. I just wondered."

"Does he talk about me a lot?" Tim asked.

"No, I don't think so," Lancer said. "More...throwaway comments."

"Yeah," Pradnya agreed. "But it's getting kind of obvious to everyone that he has a problem with you."

Tim shrugged, feigning nonchalance. At the same time, his heart sank at the knowledge that he was being put down by a professor with apparent regularity. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. He tried to push it aside. He said good-bye to Pradnya and Lancer and went home. He was tired enough that he was able to fall asleep after taking care of Jethro, even with his thoughts racing a bit.

And time marched on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's second semester ended on a much less anxious note than his first. He finished the course with Jaye. He took some tests. He also met with Jaye, Roger and Sherman and they started planning his proposal. He was going to start working on the security program during the summer, figuring out what the flaws were in the current security program that was letting someone get in. He got read into the classified projects and then, they took him to the secure server and let him get a feel for what was there. Of course, the program wasn't just about protecting the current projects but about making the server secure for _any_ project present or future that the department might win.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, can't you tell me _anything_?" Abby wheedled.

"Abby, what part of classified Secret do you not understand?" Tim asked without looking away from the monitor.

They were breaking into a confiscated laptop. Tim had written a new program and he had been excited to try it out. Abby had been peering over his shoulder as they'd begun running the program. She was reluctantly admiring, but she also had encouraged him to try this new idea out and had been excited to see how many skills he was acquiring from his work.

"But, Tim!"

"Abby, no. The answer is going to be no. It doesn't matter how many times you ask," Tim said.

The computer beeped at him and he jumped to his feet and threw his arms over his head.

"Yes! It worked! We're in! Ha!"

He looked at Abby in triumph and she gave him a high five.

"Excellent! Let's see what we have, Mr. Computer Science Ph.D.!"

"I don't have the Ph.D. yet, Abbs," Tim said but he flushed with pleasure at his success.

"But you will. Soon. You'll be started on your second year in a month! It's so wild!"

"I know. Sometimes, it's bizarre to think that I'm actually doing this. I do prefer the summer where I'm not taking classes. I can work on things on the weekends and in the evenings, but I don't have assignments to turn in. I'm almost done with a draft of my proposal. I'm going to sit down with Sherman next week to go over it."

"You know..."

Tim rolled his eyes. "No, Abby. I'm not telling you."

"Just thought I'd check."

"You don't need to. It's not going to change."

Abby laughed and put up her hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay. I give."

"If only I believed you," Tim said with a grin.

The laptop beeped again and they dove into the data his program had uncovered.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's draft was only the first of many before his committee approved the proposal for defense. He started reacting to the stress of what he had to accomplish in the middle of the fall semester of his second year. He started having trouble sleeping, staying awake almost the entire night because of his worries about getting to the point he needed in order to defend his proposal.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting beside the secure server in the basement, late Saturday night. He'd been on campus all day since it was his Saturday off. He was trying and trying to figure out what he was missing. There was something in the program that wasn't going to work, and he hadn't even started the real coding yet. It was just not working right.

The door opened, but Tim didn't really pay attention until he heard his name.

"Tim...are you _still_ here?"

Tim looked up.

"Hey, Sherman. Yeah. There's something not working, and I'm trying to figure it out. I'm just getting defeated by this."

"Tim, you've got enough baggage under your eyes to travel to Europe."

Tim smiled as Sherman sat down by him.

"I can't get my brain to turn off. Until I can get this proposal done right..."

"It's not going to help you if you wear yourself out. You're already doing too much as it is. It's okay to take it slow. We don't expect you to get everything right at the beginning."

"It's not the beginning. I've been working on this for months."

"Yeah. Months. Not years. It's okay."

Tim shook his head. "No, I need to get this done. At least the proposal, but I'm just not seeing what I'm missing."

"Here. Give it to me. Let me see."

Sherman took the page Tim was working on and examined it. Tim sat back and let him, although he worried at a fingernail while he waited.

"You're on the right track, I think, Tim. It's a different approach and it just might work. Keep on with it. If you're missing something, it will come up in the coding. The proposal isn't a finished product. It's the promise of a finished product. Don't stress so much!"

"Easier said than done, I'm afraid," Tim said.

"I realize that, but go home and sleep, Tim. It'll keep. Finish this draft when you can and turn it in. Let us see and evaluate. That's our job, remember?"

Tim smiled. "Okay."

"Good. Go home."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's proposal was approved one month later. He successfully defended it and then, all that remained was to actually implement the thing. Now that the time had come to start the actual coding, Tim felt better because he was doing the work, not having to justify the work. For the next six months, it was almost all he did. After work, before work, on the weekends, he was writing the program. It isolated him somewhat from his friends at NCIS, but they all tried to be supportive of what he was doing. Even Abby had given up trying to know what it was that he was doing. Interestingly, even though his work load had increased, he seemed energized by the extra work, not worn out by it.

He still had more run-ins with Charles than he'd like, but worse than that was the knowledge that he was still being dissed in various courses. He tried to ignore it, and comforted himself with the knowledge that the other students knew him and didn't hold Charles' attitude against him. He got frustrated but he didn't talk about it much.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You slip up once and I'll know about it," Charles said.

Tim said nothing. He just stared at the professor with a steely gaze worthy of Gibbs until Charles walked away.

"Nicely done."

Tim jumped a little and turned around.

"Hey, Eric. Nothing I do makes a difference."

"I know. I'm surprised at how long he can hold a grudge. Hopefully, he won't turn that on me."

"You've been here longer than he has. He wouldn't dare," Tim said with a grin. "You're senior."

Eric laughed. "Well, I may be leaving myself soon."

Tim's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm being recruited by this big research company. I never really thought about leaving the ivory tower, but...well, it might be stupid of me to pass this up. It just means that I'll finally have to finish and move on."

"Everyone moves on to something else eventually," Tim said.

"Yeah, but I haven't...and don't spread it around, okay? I haven't really made my decision yet and I don't want it to be the topic of gossip."

Tim smiled. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Thanks. I hope you don't mind that I haven't really said anything against Charles about what he's doing. He's my supervisor and you know that they can make or break you."

Tim nodded. "It's okay. I can handle it. It's just frustrating. Sometimes, I just want to sock him right in the face when he gets that disgusted expression."

"I don't blame you."

"Well, back to work...I wouldn't want Charles catching me 'slipping up'," Tim said, miming quotation marks.

"Go for it."

Eric gave Tim a high five and went to his own work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

By the end of Tim's second year, he was making a _lot_ of progress on his program. In fact, he was almost ready to do a trial run.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, can you take a break just this once and come out with us?" Ziva asked. "We are forgetting what you look like outside of work!"

Tim laughed. "I would say yes, Ziva, but I have to try some stuff out tonight. If it works, I'll be that much closer to being done."

"How _much_ closer, Probie?" Tony asked.

"Like in a matter of months instead of another year. I'm really excited to try this out. If it works, I'll hang out with you guys tomorrow night. I promise!"

"I will hold you to that," Ziva said.

"Even if it doesn't work," Tony said. "You need to take _one_ night off, and we'll make you if we have to come to campus and drag you out by your ears."

Tim grinned at the image that conjured up.

"Okay, okay. Tomorrow night. No matter what."

He gathered his stuff and headed for campus.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sequestered himself with the secure server. He was ready to start trying out the tracking feature of his program. He had set the server going and now, he set the tracking running and waited for a few minutes to make sure it was going to function. It didn't seem to be crashing at all. One good thing about it already! It worked! He had his laptop set up to try to hack into the server, but he didn't get a chance. Someone else was trying to hack in. Tim wasn't ready for that. He watched it to see if the tracking would work. The location hopped all over the world, but Tim had expected that. No good hacker would broadcast his actual location. The tracking continued and then, suddenly, without warning jumped back to DC...and back to George Washington University campus...and into the department...and Tim's eyes widened.

Without another thought, he ran out of the server room and up to the department...to a faculty office. He ran to the door and opened it without knocking.

"Professor Ormond, what are you–?"

That was as far as he got.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"Come on, Arnold! This was _your_ idea," Lancer said. "We want to get some information about this stuff and Charles is the expert. You know it and I know it."

"I know, but...with how he talks about Tim. I'm terrified of getting on his bad side," Arnold confessed.

"Asking him a question that will pander to his vanity won't get on his bad side," Lancer said with a smile.

"When you put it that way..."

They got to Charles' office and the door was ajar.

"Charles?" Lancer called out.

There was no answer.

He stepped forward and knocked on the door while simultaneously walking in. Arnold was right behind him.

"Charles, your door was open and Arnold and I..."

He trailed off into shocked silence. Arnold came up beside him and swore in shock. Both of them were shocked into immobility at what they saw.

...until Arnold suddenly turned and threw up in the garbage can. Lancer, on the other hand, pulled himself together and knelt down.

Tim and Charles were both lying on the floor. Neither were moving. Both were bleeding heavily. They were right next to each other. Charles' head looked like it was completely crushed and there was a large blood pool around him on the floor. Tim had a long narrow laceration across his forehead. His face was streaked with blood, but he also was bleeding from the back of his head.

Lancer hesitated and then checked to see if Charles had a pulse. He looked dead. His head looked like a crushed melon. There was no pulse.

"Charles is dead, Arnold," Lancer said in a shaky voice.

Arnold swore again and turned back to the garbage can.

Lancer reached out and checked Tim for a pulse. As he touched Tim's neck, Tim's eyes fluttered open for just a moment and he felt a faint pulse. He was breathing, too...very shallowly, but he was breathing.

"Tim's alive! Arnold, Tim's alive! Call 911 and I'll call campus security."

He heard a sniffle and he looked back. Arnold was pale, almost green.

"Arnold! Tim is alive! Call for help! Get out your phone and dial 911! Now!"

Arnold finally nodded and pulled out his phone. He was shaking but he was doing it. Lancer dialed the campus security number.

"This is Lancer Moody in the Computer Science department. One of the students has been seriously injured and...and one of the faculty is dead. It looks like they were both attacked. I don't know who did it or if they're still around. We need someone here. Like now."

"_You're in the Computer Science department right now?"_

"Yes! That's what I said!"

"_Calm down, sir. I've got campus security coming over there. They'll be there in a couple of minutes."_

"I'm sorry," Lancer said. He started trying to stem the blood flowing out of Tim's head. "I...he's bleeding a lot and I've never seen anything like this before."

"_I understand. Just do your best to stop the bleeding. Don't jostle him at all. If he regains consciousness, keep him calm."_

"Okay. I'll try."

Arnold got off the phone a few seconds later.

"They're coming," he whispered. "Charles is really dead?"

Lancer nodded. "Give me your jacket."

"What for?"

"To stop Tim from bleeding to death."

He held out his hand and noticed that it was shaking. Arnold pulled off his jacket and handed it over. Lancer moved Tim's head just enough to press the jacket against the wound as firmly and gently as he could.

"They said not to move him."

"That's what campus security said, too."

Tim didn't move. He didn't die. He didn't regain consciousness. Campus security got there first. One of the officers stayed with Lancer and Arnold and helped deal with the dead man and the possibly-dying man. The other two went through the building, making sure that no intruders could be found. Sherman, Joan, Eric, Lisa and Nathan were all there. They hadn't heard anything. Sherman, Lisa and Nathan had been meeting in one of the classrooms. Joan had been working in her office at the other end of the department, and Eric had just come into the building. None of them were allowed to leave.

The ambulance, along with the police, arrived a couple of minutes later and Tim was whisked away as quickly as possible, leaving everyone else behind in varying states of shock.

"How long do we need to stay here?" Sherman asked one of the police.

"Until we can talk to all of you."

"How long will that take?"

"In a hurry, Professor?"

"No, but Arnold is a diabetic and if we're going to be here for a long time, I think he should have something to eat. He threw up already. Low blood sugar can come on suddenly and I don't think any of us want to deal with that, especially not him."

"I'm feeling okay," Arnold said softly when the officer looked at him. "A little shaky, but okay."

"There's a vending machine in the basement," Lancer said. "I could go down and get some juice."

"Nolan, take him down."

Lancer nodded and followed Nolan, or rather, he _led_ Nolan down to the vending machine.

"Is Tim going to be okay?" he asked as they walked.

"He was still alive when they took him away. That means he could stay that way."

"Oh...hey, Tim is an NCIS agent!" Lancer said. "His friends are there, too. We need to let them know that he got hurt...and his family. I don't have the contact information, but..."

"He's an agent?"

"Yeah. He's doing both. It's been driving him crazy sometimes, I think, but, he's been doing great, I think. I haven't met his team, but I can tell you who they are."

"You don't need to. If he's a part of NCIS, they're going to need to know officially, and his team will probably be told."

"Are you sure?"

Nolan smiled. "Yeah. I'm sure. NCIS looks after its own."

"Here's the vending machine."

Lancer put the money in and bought a fruit juice for Arnold. As he bent over to pick it up, he noticed that his hands were shaking. He tried to hide that from Officer Nolan, but he knew he hadn't succeeded.

"It's okay to be upset about what you saw."

"Good...because...I...I've never seen anything like that before in my life. I mean...Charles' head...it was so...smashed..." Lancer closed his eyes and shook his head to get rid of the image. "And...and I had to check to see if he was dead...and..."

Officer Nolan patted him on the back.

"No one likes seeing dead bodies, but some of us get used to it."

"Yeah, I guess. Will you find who did this?"

"We'll try. That's why we're making a start now. We'll call NCIS right away and get them here. What's the name of his teammates?"

"His boss is an...Agent Gibbs. The other people are...Tony and Ziva. I know there's an Abby and Jimmy and a Ducky. I don't think they're agents though. I mean, he's _talked_ about them, but we've never met any of them."

"Agent Gibbs, huh? Then, it's definitely going to be an NCIS case."

"Why?"

"Because Agent Gibbs won't stand for one of his team being hurt. He takes those things personally. Even MPD knows about him."

"Oh."

They got back up to the department and Lancer handed the juice to Arnold, trying to look at least somewhat calm.

"Okay. Do any of you have family contact information for Timothy McGee?" Officer Mirron asked.

"There may be some on file," Sherman said. "I'm his advisor. Would you like me to look?"

"NCIS will have contact information as well," Officer Nolan said. "He's an agent, Mirron. Gibbs' team."

"Oh. Okay. Let's call them now. Get them over here as soon as possible." Officer Mirron looked at the people who had been kept there. "I know you'd all like to go home, but we have a murder and an attempted murder that happened here. The sooner NCIS can get your statements, the better. If you need to call family or anything like that, feel free. And you...Arnold?"

Arnold nodded.

"You start having any problems, you tell us. The professor is right. No one wants to deal with hypoglycemia."

Arnold nodded again.

"Good. Nolan, call NCIS."

"Will do."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So...we've got McGee promising to come out with us tomorrow. I think we should make it something more than just a drink," Tony said.

"How _much_ more?" Abby asked.

"Not as much as _you're_ thinking."

"Hey!"

"We want this to be _fun_, Abby," Ziva said. "Not psychotic."

Abby glared at Ziva but then grinned.

"Okay, okay. I guess we can go with something boring."

"Something fun," Tony corrected.

His phone rang and he groaned when he saw it was Gibbs. He didn't want to get called into work _now_...but he knew better than to ignore a call from Gibbs.

"Hey, Boss. Can't it wait?"

"_No. McGee was almost killed tonight."_

Tony blinked and then snapped at the others.

"What do you mean McGee was almost killed? He was at the university! He was...coding or whatever he does. How could he be almost killed?"

"_That's where he was. Someone killed a professor and almost killed him. I'm headed over there right now."_

"We'll be there, Boss. Is he going to be okay?"

"_Don't know. Didn't sound good."_

That sounded bad. If _Gibbs_ wasn't pretending that it would be fine, the outlook must be very negative indeed. Tony looked at Ziva and Abby. They were both solemn.

"Okay, Boss. Abby will go back to NCIS and Ziva and I will head over. You have the supplies?"

"_I got the truck."_

"Okay. We'll just go over then."

Gibbs hung up without saying good-bye.

"What happened?" Abby asked. "How could Tim have got hurt at the university?"

"A professor was killed, too," Tony said. "Gibbs said it doesn't sound good for Tim."

"No," Abby said. "No! This can't be happening!"

"Abby, go back to NCIS and get ready to start processing. Whoever did it isn't going to get away with it. Ziva?"

"I am ready."

"Okay."

Abby was obviously fretting, but she left. Tony and Ziva headed out together.

"I did not think he could possibly be in danger working on computers," she said softly.

"Me, neither."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Mr. Palmer, you are late!" Ducky said.

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Mallard!" Jimmy said. "I came as soon as I could. Breena wasn't happy, but...I..."

"Never mind."

"I know. This is the last thing I expected to hear."

"Nor I. From what little Jethro said, Timothy's injuries were substantial."

"Oh. Then...let's go and figure it out."

"Good lad."

They hurried out to the truck to get to the campus.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs parked the truck in front of the building housing the computer science department at George Washington University. He stopped it. The Metro police had made the report, and from what the officer had said, Tim's status was iffy at best. He hadn't bothered to pass on the crushed head description. They'd all have to worry about Tim soon enough. For now, they needed to get the investigation started. Gibbs had worried about Tim going for his Ph.D., but not because he thought Tim was in physical danger while he was working there. He was worried that Tim would be stretched too thin. Whatever had happened here, it was as much a shock to find Tim in danger here as it was that he'd been injured.

Whoever had tried to kill Tim wasn't going to get away with it. That much Gibbs was sure of. No matter what it took or where it led, he'd find the one who had tried to kill one of his people.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

They didn't want to be there. That much was obvious. Gibbs could see it in all of them. Tony and Ziva wanted to go to the hospital and see how Tim was doing. The people who had been in the building wanted to go home.

"Boss? Where?"

Gibbs turned away from his contemplation of the witnesses and looked at Tony. He knew their first exposure to the professor would make them think of how bad Tim might be. Still, there was no delaying.

"Back there. Room 324. Ducky and Jimmy are already back there."

Ducky showed them the way by storming out of the office.

"Who touched the body?" he asked, sounding outraged.

One of the grad students raised his hand, hesitantly.

"I did. I didn't know if he was dead. I had to check!"

Ducky calmed down.

"Very well. Thank you. How much?"

"Only to check for a pulse. I...I moved his...his head."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Positive," the student said, looking worried now. "I only moved his head! And only a little bit!"

Ducky looked at Gibbs significantly and Gibbs nodded.

"Tony, Ziva, go on back. I'll get started out here."

"Right, Boss," Tony said.

After they were gone, Gibbs looked at the group.

"Who found the body?"

The student and another one both raised their hands.

"Your names?"

"I'm Lancer Moody."

"Arnold. George," said the other.

Gibbs looked at the Metro officers who were still there.

"You guys mind sticking around? I'm one short."

"Sure, Agent Gibbs," Officer Mirron said. "We can do that."

"Thanks. Mr. Moody. With me."

Lancer nodded and walked with him to an empty classroom.

"Have a seat."

"Thanks. Tim's talked about you a lot."

Gibbs smiled a little.

"Tell me what happened."

"Sure. Okay. Arnold and I are taking a class together and it had a section on networking. That's Charles' specialty; so we decided to meet up and ask him about it. Uh...we both came to campus, went over the stuff in the common room for a few minutes and then...we walked back."

"And?"

"The door was open a crack which was not normal. Whether he's in there or not, Charles always had the door closed. I didn't think anything of it really, though. I don't know what will be important."

"Anything could be. That's why we ask," Gibbs said.

"I called out. No one answered and so I went in. Arnold was right behind me. We both saw them at the same time. Tim was on the ground right next to Charles. Charles looked dead from the start, but I still checked. Was that wrong?"

"No. It wasn't. Ducky just gets a little testy sometimes. Go on."

"I didn't feel a pulse and, really, with his head like it was...I couldn't imagine that he'd survive. So I checked Tim. Arnold threw up. Twice. Tim had a pulse. His eyes opened a little but didn't stay that way. I tried to stop the bleeding. I called campus security. Arnold called 911 and we waited until they got here. We've been out there ever since."

"How close was Tim to the professor?"

"They could have touched each other...if they were both alive."

Lancer was keeping his voice calm, but he was clearly _not_ calm at all. His hands were shaking a little and he looked wigged out.

"Your first time seeing a dead body?"

"A dead body? No," Lancer said with a shaky smile. "But never something like that. All that blood...and...yeah...it's...not what I thought I'd ever have to see. I'm a computer geek."

Gibbs smiled a little. A computer geek. Like Tim. That's what all these people would be, more than likely. A bunch of computer geeks...and one of them was possibly a killer.

"What time did you and Arnold get here?"

"Uh...around 7:30, I think. Maybe a little later."

"Who else was here when you got here?"

"I know Sherman was having a meeting with a couple of his students. They're working on a paper for a conference in the fall. I didn't see anyone else."

"Did you know that Tim was in the building?"

Lancer shook his head. "Everyone knows that Tim's dissertation is classified, and he comes in at odd times because those are the only times he has to work here since he's working with you most of the time. He always made a point of dropping in on the common room when he could. I think he wanted to make sure everyone knew he wasn't like Charles said he was."

"What do you mean?"

"Charles really didn't like Tim. He dissed him all the time. Tim dealt with it, and his advisor...Sherman...really helped, but I know it bothered him." Lancer's eyes suddenly went wide. "You don't think that..."

"What?"

"That Tim had anything to do with what happened to Charles, do you? I mean, that's impossible!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Tim wouldn't hurt Charles. He might want to slug the guy, but they never had it out at all... Maybe they should have, but they didn't. Not that I know of anyway."

"Okay. That's all the questions right now. I need your contact information and stick around here for the next few days."

"Am I a suspect, Agent Gibbs?"

"Right now, you're a witness, Mr. Moody. And you never know what else we might need to talk about."

"Okay."

Gibbs stood up and walked Lancer back out to the main room.

"Arnold George?"

The pale, slightly overweight student...who was slightly reminiscent of Tim in his early days, stood and followed Gibbs into the classroom.

"Have a seat, Mr. George."

"Y-Yes, sir."

"I'm Agent Gibbs."

"Yes, sir."

That was like Tim. Definitely.

"Tell me what happened."

"Didn't Lancer tell you already?"

"Yes."

Arnold stared at him, looking more than a little shell-shocked.

"We need to get everyone's perspective. You might think of something Lancer forgot."

"Well...okay. Lancer and I met up to go over the network section of our class. We...or rather _I_ figured that Charles would be the best one to ask...but I was nervous about asking him for help."

"Why?"

"Because of how nasty he was about...well, about Tim." Arnold shrugged awkwardly. "He was always putting Tim down. If Tim hadn't been hanging around, we would have thought Tim was the worst possible grad student...but Tim is amazing! He can do things with computers that I never would have imagined. I mean...that day when he helped you guys track someone down just sitting in the common room? It was like...It was _real_. Tim is doing his best and I hated the way Charles talked about him...but he did know his stuff."

"Okay. Go on."

"Well...we met up and went over some things in the common room first..so that we knew exactly what we were going to ask. Then, we went to his office. Lancer went in first. I was right behind him...and we saw..." Arnold swallowed convulsively. "...Tim and Charles on the floor... There was so much blood. I got sick and threw up. Twice. I couldn't even think. Lancer had to get me back on track and I called 911 and looked away as much as I could. Lancer made me give him my jacket so that he could try and keep Tim from bleeding to death. Then, the campus security guys got here. Then, the police...then, the ambulance. They took Tim away. And we've been waiting ever since. Lancer got me some juice. I'm diabetic and Sherman was worried that I might get hypoglycemic. It's not fun."

Gibbs compared the notes he'd been taking.

"What time did you get here?"

"About quarter to eight, I think."

"Who else was here?"

"Sherman had a meeting with a couple of his students. Joan was here, I guess, since she's here now, but I didn't know she was. I don't know when Eric got here, but he's here all the time. It's almost like he lives here." Arnold smiled a little.

"Did you know that Tim was here?"

"No...but it makes sense. Tim was here at odd times and his stuff is classified Secret. So he wouldn't be able to work on it in the common room."

"If he and Charles Ormond had that bad a relationship, what was Tim doing in his office?"

Arnold shrugged. "I have no idea...unless Charles asked him to go. Tim tried to avoid Charles as much as he could. Tim brushed off the problems, but it wasn't something that he enjoyed. I can't imagine why he'd go in there."

"Thank you."

Arnold nodded.

"I need your contact information and you need to stick around here for the next few days."

"Okay."

No questioning, unlike Lancer who wanted to know the reasons for things. Arnold had more of an unquestioning respect for people in authority positions. He was clearly wigged out by what he'd seen, but unlike Lancer, he wasn't trying to hide it at all. He hated what he had seen and he didn't care who knew about it.

"Charles looked like my dog when he got hit by a car," Arnold said softly, almost to himself. "Crushed...only it was just his head."

Gibbs looked at him and then broke his professional demeanor for a moment to give Arnold a gentle thump on the shoulder.

"Sherman Wight?" he asked out in the room.

Tim's advisor stood and followed Gibbs to the classroom.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Ducky?" Tony asked.

"I'm glad that there is only one body on this floor, not two."

"Yeah."

"Cause of death is likely blunt force trauma and exsanguination. The weapon was likely extremely heavy or else the attacker was extremely strong...based on the damage I'm seeing here."

Tony swallowed and nodded.

"Tony...look at the desk here," Ziva said.

She was on her knees in front of the large desk which dominated the space in the office.

"See the blood here?" she asked.

Tony nodded. "Yeah...and there's blood on the floor by the desk, too. ...but most of the blood is over there."

"Perhaps one or both of them were moved."

"This man was obviously moved," Ducky said.

"Does he have any long, narrow wounds?" Ziva asked.

"Not that I can see," Jimmy said. "Just the big one on the side of his head."

"Perhaps this is where Tim hit."

"Would that be enough to have him almost being killed?" Tony asked.

"I do not know."

"Okay. There are tons of fingerprints in here."

"A professor's office can occasionally have a revolving door on it, Anthony," Ducky said. "Many students will come begging for grade changes. He would have meetings in here...and probably very little thorough cleaning."

"Right."

They continued to work, Tim never far from their minds...especially knowing that a lot of the blood they could see had likely come from him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"And you didn't hear anything?"

Sherman smiled a little. "When I'm talking, I can't usually hear anything but myself. I didn't know Tim was going to be here tonight, but it doesn't surprise me in the slightest. He was really pushing himself. He wanted to finish before the end of the year."

"Can you tell me what he was working on? His dissertation?"

Sherman visibly hesitated.

"That secret?" Gibbs asked.

"Do you think that it has anything to do with what his Ph.D.? If so, why was Charles killed?"

"I don't know. We have to look into every angle."

"I guess...but you'd have to be read in, and Roger would need to do that."

"Roger?"

"Roger Brown, the head of the department. He's the one who can make that decision. I can't."

Gibbs sighed. He knew how classified material worked, but it was frustrating sometimes.

"You don't think that Charles could have been involved in whatever Tim was doing?"

Sherman shook his head before Gibbs finished the question.

"You seem pretty sure."

"Tim would never seek out Charles for any reason."

"Why not?"

"Because Tim inadvertently triggered Charles' resentment."

"Inadvertently?"

"Yes. Tim didn't _try_ to get on his bad side, but Charles had the same advisor at MIT that Tim did and couldn't get a letter of recommendation out of him, but Tim could. Tim...a cop. He could get a glowing letter, but Charles couldn't. He was unreasonable about it, and Tim is the only student we've ever seen him do this with."

"And you let it go?"

"No, we didn't. Roger talked to Charles about it. We made sure that Tim wouldn't have anything to do with Charles officially."

"According to a couple of other students, Charles talked about Tim to his classes, put him down."

"I didn't know about that."

"Tim did."

"I'm not surprised he didn't tell me. Tim didn't like to make waves. He didn't want the attention. He just wants to get through this. I think he's appreciated all he's learned, but he's also seen that he doesn't want to stay here. He _loves_ what he does at NCIS. I can see it in him every time he talks about it. He likes it here, but he loves it there."

It was gratifying to hear. Gibbs had actually been wondering if academia would draw Tim away.

"So...Professor Ormond. No punishment for his treatment?"

"Not right now, but he was going to be up for tenure next year. I can tell you right now that there would have been some hard questions for him to answer before he could have got it...not that it matters now. ...and no matter _what_ Charles had done, I wouldn't wish this on him. Do you think he died fast?"

"Probably."

"That's something anyway. Not much, but something. Well, I wish I had heard something. I wish I could help, but I didn't know anything had happened until the campus security came into the classroom."

Gibbs nodded.

"That's all I have for now. Please stick around for the next few days. We might have more questions."

"Of course." Sherman stood up and paused. "Do you want me to tell Roger that you'll be asking him or would you rather I not talk to him?"

Gibbs considered. If there _was_ more to Tim's work than Sherman was admitting, he might tip Roger off, but if he just assumed that Sherman would be talking to him, then, he could go into it without worrying.

"Would you talk to him about all this if I told you not to?" Gibbs asked.

"Not intentionally, but I have to admit that I don't have much of a filter."

There was no sign of falsity in him. Either Sherman was the best actor in the world or he was being completely honest.

"We'll be contacting him first thing in the morning. Unless you seek him out, we'll beat you to him."

Sherman smiled.

"Okay. I won't jump on the phone."

"Good idea."

They headed out and Gibbs gestured to Nathan.

"Me, next?" he asked with a deep breath.

"Yep."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, I think we're ready, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said solemnly. "Let's get him home."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard."

"Abby will be waiting for you," Ziva said.

"I'm sure she will," Ducky said with a smile. "I wish I could tell her what she wants to know. I know about the man who died, not about the one who survived."

"That might be best."

"Perhaps. I wish we knew if Timothy was still alive. Based on what I'm seeing in the man who died, his lot may be very grave."

Tony shook his head. "No. Tim won't die. He's too stubborn. No matter what. He'll pull through."

No one spoke against him. The dangers were too readily apparent. They didn't need to criticize.

"We'll see what Gibbs wants from us and then we'll probably join you back at NCIS."

"If you get a chance to find out how Tim is doing...let us know, okay?" Jimmy asked.

"Absolutely."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Your office is just down the hall from Professor Ormond's?"

Joan nodded and looked embarrassed.

"So...why didn't you hear anything?"

"Well...I...have a guilty pleasure."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Jaye introduced me to Bollywood musicals a couple of years ago. I was looking for something new and she asked if I'd ever seen any of them. She said they're not really her taste, but I might like them. Now...whenever I'm working in the evenings, I put on my headphones and blast out Bollywood songs. I was listening to the music of a movie called _Dil Chahta Hai_. ...and I may or may not have been singing along. Anything outside of that...it may as well have not existed for all I knew of it."

"Are others aware of this?"

"Yes. It's a guilty pleasure that no one talks about...unless they catch me pretending I know Hindi."

"I see."

"Does that mean I don't have an alibi?"

"Does it?"

"I wish I could help you, Agent Gibbs. I really do. Nothing about today seemed any different from any other day. There are always a few of us working in the evenings. This department doesn't usually empty out completely until almost midnight. All the grad students have keys to the building and can get in when they need to."

"All of them?"

"Except the ones that choose not to. Everyone pays a nominal fee that they can get back at the end of their schooling when they turn the keys back in."

"All right. Thank you."

They walked back out and Gibbs saw Tony and Ziva waiting for him.

"Boss, we've got what we need so far."

"Go to the hospital, get what you can from Tim, either _from_ him or from what you can find out."

They looked instantly eager...and worried at the same time.

"Right, Boss."

"Then, get back to NCIS. We need to get this stuff going."

"Yes, Gibbs," Ziva said.

They hurried out and Gibbs looked at the one who remained.

"Eric Rousseau?"

The man who stood up was probably close to Tim's age. He was the epitome of unassuming. He looked nervous, as all the students had been. They were all shocked at being part of a murder investigation. Murders had occurred on college campuses before, but no one ever thought of it as being a really dangerous place...and in this case, these were people whose focus was not exactly on the real world.

"Have a seat."

"Of course."

"Tell me what you know."

"Not much. I was just coming into the building when campus security had me come with everyone else."

"I understand you're a semi-permanent fixture around here."

Eric smiled a little. "Yeah. I...I've been a student for a long time. I was an undergrad here and I stayed for grad school...and I've been taking my time."

"Why?"

"I don't want to graduate," Eric said. "...but you won't tell anyone that, right?"

"Why don't you want to graduate?"

"Because I'm happy here...as a student. I don't _want_ to go anywhere else. ...but I've been recruited by a couple of companies. I'm...thinking of...moving on. I don't really want to, though. I'd rather just stay here."

"You can afford to keep paying tuition?"

"As long as I can get grants...which I can. My work is good."

"So you didn't know anything?"

"No. I was actually going to ask Charles about finishing up. He's my advisor right now. ...or he was. Do you know what happened?"

"We're working on it."

"Right. Do you need me to tell you anything else?"

"Did you spend a lot of time with Professor Ormond?"

Eric shrugged. "Quite a bit here. He's my advisor. I didn't hang out with him or anything. I didn't like how he treated Tim, though. He was fine with me and with most of the students, but I saw him with Tim a few times and...and I really didn't like it."

"What did you see?"

"Once he was getting all up in Tim's face about something or other. Uh...a little while ago, he told Tim he was watching him."

"Why?"

"Because he didn't like Tim. I don't know why, but he didn't. I tried to stay out of it. I'm a grad student. If he got mad at me, he could have made my life miserable. So I kept my mouth shut. I apologized to Tim, but he said he didn't mind."

Gibbs nodded. That sounded like Tim.

"Okay. Thanks. Stay around here for the next few days. We'll probably have more questions."

"Of course, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs sent Eric out and then sat down and sighed. Nothing to indicate what was going on so far. No one had known that Tim was in the building. No one was surprised that he was. No one had heard anything. No one knew why Tim would be in Charles' office. If the killer was one of the people campus security had rounded up, they weren't showing their hands so far. If it was someone else, they had got away quickly and cleanly. If only Tim could tell them something.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I am choosing to use my personal fanon for Tim's family in this story. They won't be prominent figures here, but when they show up, I don't want people to be taken by surprise because I'm not following the canon we've recently been given. So Tim's parents are Sam and Naomi McGee. Sam used to be in the Navy but is no longer. He's paralyzed from the waist down (from the accident Tim was in when he was 16) and is now a lit professor. Naomi went to law school but chose not to practice law. That's pretty much all you need to know.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Tony and Ziva approached the nurse on duty.

"Can you tell me the status of Tim McGee, please? He should have been brought in here a couple of hours ago. Head injury," Tony said.

"And you are–?"

"Agent DiNozzo and Agent David, NCIS."

The nurse nodded and looked at her computer.

"He's still in surgery, according to what I'm seeing here. You can go to the waiting room on the third floor and wait there, if you'd like."

"Do you know how it's going?"

"I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you, but all I know is that he's in surgery and I don't know how long it will be."

"Okay. Thank you. Third floor?"

"That's right."

"Okay."

They headed to the elevator.

"He is in surgery," Ziva said.

"Yeah."

"It is as bad as we feared."

"No, it's not."

"Why not?"

"Because he's still alive...and I was afraid he'd be dead by the time we got here."

He walked over to the nurse on duty in the waiting room and told her who they were and asked for the surgeon to get them when surgery was finished. It was almost midnight.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abigail, I have some samples for you to run," Ducky said gently. "You should get up to your lab and get to work."

Abby stared at the body.

"What if Tim looks like this?"

"He doesn't because he survived," Ducky said. "We must get started on finding out who attacked him. Abigail, I need you to get to work."

Abby nodded and seemed to shake herself a little bit.

"Right. Okay. I'll sign for them."

"Thank you."

Abby took the blood, skin, bone and material samples and went up to her lab.

"Doctor, what do you think?"

"About what, Mr. Palmer?"

"Whoever killed this man...he hit him hard. There's no sign that there was more than one hit. He killed him with one blow...but he didn't kill Tim; so he likely didn't hit him as hard. Why not?"

"I don't think we can comment on that just yet, Mr. Palmer. We don't even know what the weapon might have been. We only know that it was large, heavy and likely a smooth, regular surface. Anything more...will have to wait until we know more, until this man tells us more. Let's get as far as we can and then rest so that we can be better able to do our jobs."

Jimmy nodded. They bent over the body and continued on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"All right, you can all go home," Gibbs said. "Don't spread this around, please. I'll be talking to Roger Brown in the morning and he'll make sure people know who need to. This is an ongoing investigation. If you think of something, contact NCIS as soon as you can. For now, you're free to go."

Everyone stood up, a little uncertainly. They were surprised at being freed with so little ceremony.

"Officer Mirron and Nolan. Could you stay for a minute?"

The two MPD officers nodded. Everyone slowly trickled out, leaving Gibbs with the officers.

"So...what did you guys see when you got here?"

"Professor Wight and his two students were in the classroom. They seemed completely surprised when we came in," Mirron said.

"The two students who found the scene were in the office. Lancer Moody was beside your agent on the floor and the other one...Arnold George was just trying not to throw up."

"Location of the body and my agent?"

"Ormond was on his back to the side and almost behind the desk. Your agent was right beside him, but closer to the door. He was also on his back."

"Joan Beemer?"

"She was in her office with headphones on."

"Eric Rousseau?"

"Campus police saw him walking in the front door. He said he was just coming from the library to talk to Ormond."

"And campus security?"

"All the buildings have some security cameras. Mostly at the entrances. They'll be made available to you when you want them. The security guys said that they recorded the call as well. We searched the whole building and didn't find anyone in here other than the computer geeks. The Computer Science department apparently moved here a year or so ago. Some huge funding boost and they got their own place because of it."

"Thanks for your help," Gibbs said.

"Good luck, and I hope your agent makes it."

"So do I."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A doctor came into the waiting room and walked over to the nurse. Tony nudged Ziva who had been drowsing. He looked over toward them and they stood up.

"You're here about Timothy McGee?" the doctor asked.

"Yes. He's an NCIS agent. He's on our team," Tony said. "We're investigating."

"Okay. Agent McGee suffered from a complex skull fracture and a cerebral contusion. He had two head injuries. The skull fracture involved the parietal bone and the contusion, the frontal lobe. Both were fairly serious, and we just finished surgery to control the bleeding and reduce the pressure on his brain."

"Will he recover?" Ziva asked.

"Well...it's possible."

"Meaning what?" Tony asked.

"Agent McGee is in a coma right now. That coma could last for a day, a week...or forever. It just depends on how much of the coma is being caused by the current swelling. Once the swelling goes down, he'll either wake up or not. I realize that this doesn't sound the best, but it is possible that he'll wake and, with rehabilitation, he'll be able to recover. We just can't know that right now. Have you contacted his family?"

"Not yet, but we will. Can we see him right now?" Tony asked. "If only to see what happened?"

"Of course."

"We'll need to take his clothes also, for testing."

"All right. Come this way."

Tony and Ziva followed the doctor back into the ICU. They got their first look at Tim. He was in a bed. There was a bandage across his forehead and another near the back of the left side of his head. His nose looked a little bent and he had a black eye as well.

"What happened to his face?" Tony asked.

"Based on the nature of the laceration on his forehead, I'd guess that he fell forward and hit something and then fell to the floor. If he was unconscious, he wouldn't have stopped himself. He could have hit the floor directly with his face."

"Was anything broken?"

"No. Just bruised."

The doctor withdrew then, giving them some time alone with their friend.

"Man, Tim," Tony said softly, "you sure know how to get out of a party. We had it all planned out and there was no way you could have got out of it. Don't think that this means we'll give up. No way. You're stuck with a night out on the town. Got it?"

Tim didn't even stir. He had a heart monitor and an EEG but no ventilator, just a nasal cannula. Ziva picked up Tim's hand.

"There are no defensive wounds on his hands. He had no chance to fight back."

"Or else he knew who attacked him," Tony said.

"Yes. ...but where he was apparently lying on the floor does not square with the injuries we see here. He was moved. He had to have been moved."

"So...that means there could be _something_ on his clothes that might clue us in to who did this."

"Maybe. I want to know what everyone said. Maybe Gibbs has some ideas already."

"I hope he does. Let's get this done here. We need to call his parents, too...and I don't want to do that."

"Gibbs will do it," Ziva said. "He will not let anyone else."

"You're right."

Ziva picked up Tim's other hand and Tony tried not to notice how limp it was.

"No defensive wounds here, either," she said.

"What if he'd just walked into the office? He stepped in the door and turned just a little which is why the fracture is near the back of his head..."

"...and then, he fell forward and hit his head on the desk," Ziva finished. "It would explain the wounds."

"And then, the person who attacked him pulled him out of the way; so he could close the door...so no one could see him and know that anything had happened."

Ziva suddenly became solemn.

"What?"

"If those two students had not gone into that office..."

"He'd be dead, too," Tony finished.

"So...who was the target?" Ziva asked. "Tim? The professor? Or both?"

"Or neither. What if someone else was supposed to be there?"

"Why, though? Why would someone else be in the professor's office?"

"I don't know. Let's get back and regroup. We need to share everything and see what's going on."

"Agreed."

Ziva leaned over and kissed Tim on the cheek.

"We will be back, Tim."

They walked out, collected Tim's clothes and headed back to NCIS.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When they got back, Gibbs handed off Tim's clothes to Abby who whimpered a little and got to work, and then got Tony and Ziva to sit and give what they'd found out. Gibbs shared the information he had. Most of it was typical, but then, they found out that Charles was the professor Tim had refused to name.

"What? Why would he have been in his office, then?" Tony asked. "Everything Tim said...he didn't want to _see_ the guy, let alone interact with him."

"Yes. Did they have any explanation for his presence?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "None. They all felt the same. One of them asked if that meant that Tim might have attacked Ormond."

"Oh, come on!" Tony scoffed. "Tim wouldn't do that! That's not how he solves things."

"_We_ know that, but we might have to address it as an issue, Tony."

"What about Tim's research? Was it part of that?"

"Don't know. I have to get read in."

"Oh, yeah. By who?" Tony asked.

"The head of the department."

"Who wasn't there tonight."

"Exactly."

"The doc asked about Tim's family," Tony said.

"I'll call them," Gibbs said.

That was it. Nothing else needed to be said about that.

"But if it _was_ about his research," Ziva said, pulling them back on topic, "why would McGee go into that man's office? What would have brought him there?"

"We won't know until we know what he was doing," Gibbs said.

Ziva sighed. "Of course."

"So...what do we have right now?"

Tony leaned forward. "A jerk professor is dead, and McGee was attacked. No reason to think that it wasn't the same person responsible...not yet, anyway. They were in the professor's office. Both were moved."

"McGee was there working on his dissertation, although we do not know what it is," Ziva added. "No one else knew he was there, but no one thought it strange."

"No one heard anything," Tony added, "and they all have good reasons for not hearing anything. We don't have a murder weapon yet, but we know it was heavy and large."

"And a regular shape," Ziva added, "since it left a regular...injury."

"Right. It's conceivable that anyone in the building _could_ have done it, but the only one who has a reason to dislike Charles Ormond...is McGee."

"If we are going to say that McGee killed Ormond, then, who attacked him? It is unlikely he could have hit Ormond that hard if he was already injured. ..._and_ both were moved. There are no wounds on McGee indicating that there was some kind of physical fight beforehand."

"There has to be a third person involved no matter _what_ scenario plays out," Tony said. "Both of them were moved after they were injured or killed; so we have to have a third man, whether Ormond hit McGee and then was killed by the third guy or if the third guy killed Ormond and attacked McGee."

It was very obvious that Tony wasn't giving the third scenario of Tim killing Charles. No one mentioned it.

Gibbs sat back and nodded. Then, he got to his feet.

"I'm going to call his parents. Go home. Get some sleep. We'll start fresh tomorrow."

"We can stay, Boss!" Tony protested.

"You'll do more for McGee if you're awake, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "And we have to wait until tomorrow anyway. Ducky and Jimmy are already gone. Abby will be as soon as I make her. Go home...or at least to the hospital."

Tony smiled weakly.

"Okay."

They left and Gibbs looked at his phone. He hated making these calls, but they had to be done. He picked up his phone and dialed the number of the McGee home in Ohio. He had all the contact numbers of his team memorized. Why waste time looking something up at a time like this?

"Hello, Mr. McGee. Yes, I know it's late. This is Agent Gibbs. I have bad news about your son..."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"Roger Brown?"

Roger turned away from his car and saw two men approaching him, badges in hand. He had just noticed the caution tape and was wondering what was going on at seven in the morning. He tried to get there early on Friday mornings, but someone had clearly been there before him.

"Yes?"

"You're the head of the Computer Science department?"

"Yes. Who are you and what do you want?"

"NCIS. Special Agent Gibbs, and that's Agent DiNozzo."

"NCIS...Agent Gibbs. Tim's boss."

"Yes."

"What do you need?"

"I need to know what Tim's dissertation is," Gibbs said.

"Why?"

"Because Charles Ormond was killed last night in his office, and Tim was almost killed. We know he was there working on his dissertation, but that's about it."

"What? Charles is dead? And Tim?"

"In a coma."

Roger leaned back against his car, shocked to the core. Of all the things he might have expected to go wrong on any given day, murder really wasn't on his list.

"What happened?"

"We don't know...yet."

"And you need to know what Tim was working on? You think it matters?"

"I think it could and we can't eliminate that as a possibility unless we know what it is."

"How many need to know?"

"Two, for now. If it turns out that this is related, my whole team, but no more if that's what worries you."

Roger heard the censure.

"I know it may seem callous to you, my worrying about keeping things classified when someone has been killed, but it's part of my job."

"Just tell us," Tony said.

"All right. Oh...can I tell the rest of the department about what happened? We can't hold classes today, not in this situation, and the university administrators need to know."

"They already do," Gibbs said. "They were told last night and decided to keep school in session...except in this building."

"Oh. All right." Roger took a breath. "Come in. I'll take you down to where Tim must have been working."

"Where?" Tony asked.

"The secure server, in the basement. I'll show you."

They followed him, and Roger felt extremely unsettled. He didn't like the idea of having to tell these two agents about the problems they'd been having, but if Tim had almost been killed because of it, it had to be done. He opened the locked door and led them inside. Tim's laptop was there beside the server. Curious, Roger walked over.

"Tim was definitely in here, and he left it..." Roger woke up the laptop. It had been in hibernation mode. "...the program is...wow. He got it working. Amazing." Forgetting the agents, he sat down and started looking at what Tim had been doing. It was a little rough, but the program was working. He was amazed at what Tim had managed to accomplish in a relatively short amount of time.

"Dr. Brown?"

Roger looked up.

"Yes?"

"What is it?"

"Oh. Sorry. All right. Tim was creating a security program for us. Jaye, Sherman and I have some classified projects we're working on, and we've had a problem with someone who is extremely skilled trying to hack into the secure server. They've almost made it before. Tim's dissertation was to write a program that would secure the server and help us track down the hacker. If word of this breach gets out, we could lose a lot of funding money for the department. Federal agencies don't want to work with people who can't keep classified data classified."

"So he wasn't working with any of your projects in particular?"

"No. He was _protecting_ our projects...now and in the future. We were thrilled with the plan he made and we were helping him create it, but we wanted it to be his approach. We didn't want it to be a recycled version of what we had already done. That obviously wasn't working."

"So...his program is running now?"

"It looks like he was testing the tracking," Roger said.

"Any results?"

Roger sat down and looked at the program. He scanned the results and sat back, feeling his _second_ major shock of the day.

"Yes. There is."

He was just staring at the screen.

"Dr. Brown. What is it?"

"Tim found our hacker."

"He did?" Tony asked.

"Yes. He did. The hacker was trying to get in while the server was online, and Tim was testing his tracking program. The hacker was in Charles Ormond's office."

"Ormond was the hacker?" Tony asked.

"His office computer was being used," Roger said, unwilling to believe that his fellow professor could possibly have been trying to break into the secure server. "We've had...rather lax standards in securing the offices. The grad students come in when they want to and we have people in the building into the very late hours. Someone could have been in there and using his computer. It doesn't have to have been Charles himself."

"Well, we already know there were three people in that office," Gibbs said.

"Tim, Charles...and–?"

"That's the question," Tony said with a bit of a smile. "We don't know. Yet."

"And I guess that means you haven't made up your mind as to who is guilty of what."

Gibbs just smiled.

"What can you tell me about Professor Ormond?"

"He was extremely skilled in the area of network security. That's his specialty. He single-handedly upgraded our network after he was hired. He's been a challenging advisor for his students but I think that they've appreciated it. He's prepared them really well for future occupations."

"And his treatment of Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"That was an aberration, but it was a bad one. I'd discussed it with him more than once. I even told him that his tenure was in jeopardy with that kind of behavior. I don't think he took me seriously and I don't think he changed his feelings at all."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No. He wouldn't even admit that his feelings were as strong as they obviously were."

"Could he have become physically violent?"

"You mean could he have attacked Tim?"

"Yes."

Roger instantly rejected that idea. "No. I admit that I could see Charles letting himself get riled up enough to throw a punch, but a single punch wouldn't put Tim in a coma. Charles doesn't have the muscle tone." He smiled a little and then sobered. "How _were_ they attacked?"

"Blunt force trauma," Gibbs said.

That was rather vague, but Roger figured that they probably weren't wanting to share details right now.

"No. I can't see Charles doing that...and I can't see Tim doing it, either. If he went to the office, it would be to confront whoever was there."

"He knows better than that," Tony said.

"Does he?" Roger asked. "If it were me, I wouldn't even think _once_ about the possibility of violence, let alone twice."

"You're not an agent."

"But Tim really doesn't act like an agent. He's a grad student...in computer science. If he didn't follow procedure, I think I can understand why. He wasn't thinking there was a possibility of physical danger. He was thinking he was going to catch another geek. Obviously, he was wrong, but I can see the reason for this lapse you're indicating he suffered. ...but at least you know why he was there."

"Because he found your hacker."

"Yes. ...and you know what? I would let the hacker get in...I might even be willing to lose the grants if I could exchange Charles' life and Tim's injury for them. This isn't what I expect to happen to my grad students...or my professors."

"We didn't expect it, either."

"Of course. You don't expect it. I guess if you did...you'd know who to suspect." Roger sighed. "Is there anything else you need to know?"

"We're going to need to talk to you about the other students and faculty."

"Do you really think that it could be one of us?"

"Until we find a reason to suspect otherwise."

Roger nodded reluctantly. He understood, intellectually, that there were procedures they had to follow, trails they had to investigate...but he still didn't like the idea that someone in the department could be guilty of murder.

"Will you need to check the announcement I send around?"

"Don't give any details about what happened," Gibbs said.

"You'll need to tell them that there was a murder and attempted murder but don't go beyond that. Don't give out any information about what we might be suspecting," Tony added.

"All right. ...uh...do you need any information about where I was last night?" He intentionally didn't use the word _alibi_.

"Where _were_ you?"

"With my wife. It was our weekly date night."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and Roger flushed, even though he'd never felt embarrassed about it before.

"I was getting really busy and we realized that we weren't spending time together. So we scheduled one night a week."

"How is that working for you?" Tony asked.

Roger smiled. "Quite well."

"That's all the questions we have for now," Gibbs said.

"All right. I'll be available if you need me. How long will this building be off limits?"

"As long as we need it to be."

"All right. I guess I can accept that."

"We want to figure this out, and we will," Tony said.

"I believe you."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Naomi gently lay Tim's hand back on the bed. He made no move.

"Sam...I can't believe this. How could this happen?"

"'Truth will always be truth, regardless of lack of understanding, disbelief or ignorance,'" Sam said softly. "W. Clement Stone. Whether we can believe it or not, whether we understand it or not...it's right there, staring us in the face."

"I know...but murder? And then, Tim in a coma? How many years has Tim been in NCIS without anything like this happening to him? Grad school is supposed to be about being stuck in a library, in front of a computer. It's not supposed to be about murder, Sam!"

Sam wheeled his chair closer to the bed where Tim lay. He held out his hand to Naomi and then pulled her close to him.

"I know, but saying what it's not supposed to be won't change what it is. This is what it is, Naomi...and all we can do is wait and hope that Tim will wake up."

Naomi leaned against Sam. "As soon as you said who was calling..."

"As soon as the phone rang," Sam corrected. "You knew it was going to be bad."

Naomi just nodded in silence.

"If Tim can, he'll come back to us. You know he won't take the easy way out. He's our son and he'll fight."

"And we have to wait."

"Augustine said that 'patience is the companion of wisdom.'"

"Didn't Ghandi say something else about patience?"

Sam smiled. "'Patience means self-suffering.'"

"That one resonates with me more right now, Sam. I don't feel wise."

"Well, you're not being patient."

Naomi smiled and slugged him gently on the arm.

"Don't you start with me, Sam McGee."

"Too late."

Naomi looked back at Tim. He was so still.

"I just want my son to wake up and be all right."

"I wish I could say that he will, but I don't know, Naomi. I just don't know."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_To: Faculty, Staff and Students in the Computer Science department_

_From: Roger Brown, Department Head_

_Subject: All classes cancelled until further notice_

_Last night, Professor Charles Ormond was murdered in his office. Tim McGee, a Ph.D. student was also attacked and badly injured. This is, of course, a major shock to everyone. There is an ongoing investigation, and if you feel you might know something, please contact NCIS Agent Gibbs at 555-3829. Because of the investigation and the tragedy, we are cancelling classes until further notice. I will let you know when classes will resume._

Roger read over the email. He had revised it over and over again, wondering how much he should say. He decided just to leave it simple. People would have questions and they could ask them...and he could _not_ answer if he needed to.

Even as he read the words, he felt his own sense of shock. He needed to plan a time to go and see how Tim was doing, but he didn't know if he would really be welcome. He had only worked with Tim. He wasn't Tim's advisor and hadn't done as much with Tim as Sherman had.

He read what he had written again.

What had happened?

He didn't know, but for now...he sent the email.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Over the next few days, the MCRT tried to get a breakthrough on the case. Unfortunately, they were hitting a roadblock. The security video had only confirmed the arrival of all the people in the building. They hadn't seen any sign of any other person. So, either they were missing someone or else the culprit was one of the people they'd interviewed. The problem was that, with the exception of Joan, no one in the building had been alone. Eric had been coming in _after_ the murder had taken place. They had nothing to indicate that he'd been in there before. The fingerprints which had been found in Charles' office had taken a long time to track down. Eric's were there, but he had an alibi, and he was one of Charles' students which meant that he'd have lots of fingerprints in any case. There were a number of fingerprints belonging to Charles' other students, to members of the faculty, to students from Charles' undergrad courses. One after another had been cleared. It took time. A _lot_ of time, but it meant that they were left with nothing. No suspects. No murder weapon. No leads. ...not without Tim being able to tell them something.

And then, there was Tim himself. His doctor insisted that his condition was improving, but it wasn't apparent to his friends and family. Tim was still in a coma, but they were being told that Tim was starting to respond to stimuli. They took turns with Tim's family sitting with him in the evenings. It was a combination of wanting to find the person who had put Tim in this condition and wanting to be there when Tim woke up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky and Gibbs were sitting beside Tim, mostly in silence. ...or at least, _Gibbs_ was silent. Ducky had no such issue.

"And I feel that there is always value in getting even a _few_ hours of sleep per night and it's worth the effort to get them if necessary."

Suddenly, Ducky thought he saw a twitch from the person in the bed. He stopped talking and looked more closely at Tim.

Tim's eyes opened.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

Jethro leaned forward at Ducky's words.

Tim's eyes didn't seem to be focusing on anything. His eyes were open but not really seeing yet. How awake was he really?

"Timothy?"

Tim made some noise. It couldn't really be called speech although his mouth was moving. There was sound and not much more.

"Do you remember me?"

More sounds and then...

"–ucky..."

And the soft mumbling continued. His eyes momentarily focused on Ducky but then drifted away again.

"That's right, Timothy."

It was unclear whether or not Timothy _thought_ he was saying anything with his mumbling. His eyes were very heavy-lidded.

"...happned..."

"Are you asking what happened, Timothy?"

"...happened..."

Ducky chose to assume that Tim was, indeed, asking what happened to him.

"You were attacked and injured fairly seriously, but now that you're awake, I think you'll recover."

Whether that was true or not was not particularly certain, but Ducky didn't see any reason to tell Tim that he might suffer from permanent disability. There was plenty of time for that if it arose. He pushed the call button.

"Your doctor will be here to evaluate you, and your parents will be here a little later."

More unintelligible mumbling from Tim.

"Where..."

"A hospital," Ducky said.

"...why..."

Ducky smiled.

"You're in need of medical attention, Timothy."

"Do you remember anything, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky looked at Gibbs and shook his head. This was not the time to _ask_ Tim questions. It was the time to _answer_ questions if he had them.

Tim's eyes managed to focus on Gibbs just for a moment.

"...Bossss..."

One word. That was all Tim could seem to manage. The question seemed to have gone over his head.

The door opened and a nurse came in.

"What is it, Dr. Mallard?"

"Timothy is awake."

"Oh. I'll get Dr. Marteen right away. That's wonderful."

She withdrew, leaving them alone with Tim again. He didn't seem to be waking up any more than he was before. Tim's eyes had closed again.

"Timothy?"

His eyes opened again. He seemed to be struggling to focus on anything for more than a second or two.

"Just relax, Timothy. It's all right."

More mumbling, and then, the door opened behind them.

"So he's awake?" Dr. Marteen asked.

"Yes...but he's not especially alert at the moment."

"To be expected."

He leaned over Tim and began checking his monitors, making note of Tim's EEG and EKG readings. He checked Tim's respiration and his reflexes. Tim was awake through all of that, but he was mostly silent, just staring vaguely at the space around him. It was clear that he was awake but not completely connected.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked.

Dr. Marteen didn't answer right away. He got Tim's meager attention and had him follow his finger around with his eyes. It was hard to wait, but they knew it was important to get a sense of Tim's progress.

The act of following Dr. Marteen with his eyes seemed to tire Tim out and his eyes closed again. The mumbling stopped and he seemed to sleep.

Dr. Marteen then looked at them.

"He's waking up, and it's simply taking a little longer than you'd like. Over the next few days, I think we'll see him regain a lot of his cognition, although I'd be surprised if he didn't require rehab. There was damage to his brain, but now that he's waking up, we'll schedule another CT scan and see how things are shaping up in there. That will give us a good feel for how he'll progress."

"He recognized us both," Ducky said. "He addressed us."

"That's good. That's _great_, in fact. His long-term memory is intact. His short-term memory...well, I'd be surprised if he remembered everything from what happened just before his injury. He's fortunate in that, while the injuries were serious, they weren't as bad as they could have been. Actually, the worst damage was the impact from the front, not the knock on the back, although both contributed to his coma."

"Will he be able to talk to us?" Gibbs asked.

"Hopefully. If he was saying actual words, that's an indication of the improvement in the function of his brain. It will take a couple of days before he's anywhere near able to communicate...at least if I'm right about his status. People don't typically recover right away from a coma. It takes time. I realize that you have an investigation going on, but remember that Agent McGee is recovering from something that would have killed him if he hadn't had treatment as quickly as he did. You can't expect too much of him right now."

"Understood," Ducky said.

"His parents are on their way over. Once Agent McGee stabilizes, we'll be able to move him out of the ICU and he'll be able to have more visitors."

"But until then, only two at a time, correct?"

"Exactly."

Gibbs got to his feet and left them room, followed by Ducky. When they got out into the hall, Ducky let out a whoosh of air.

"He's awake, Jethro."

"Barely."

"That doesn't matter. It's a beginning, and one that could have never occurred. We could have been waiting for years with nothing. Instead, it's only been a few days. That's a blessing that we should be grateful for."

"He's hardly coherent, Duck."

"He just awakened from a coma, Jethro! What were you expecting? Did you think that Timothy would wake up and be normal?"

Gibbs just sighed.

"Jethro, whatever damage has been done to Timothy's brain won't be readily apparent until later."

"How long?" Gibbs asked. "How long will it take until McGee can tell us anything and help us catch a killer? We don't have anything right now, Ducky! We need what McGee can tell us and we can't get it."

"I'm worried about him, too," Ducky said.

"This shouldn't have happened."

"Of course, it shouldn't."

"No. McGee should have known better than to go running off to confront someone without backup."

"You told me that the department head wasn't surprised."

Gibbs shook his head and strode out of the hospital.

"Doesn't matter. McGee's been an agent for nearly a decade and it should have been automatic for him to be careful."

Ducky stopped Gibbs from going on.

"Jethro, everyone makes mistakes. Everyone. Yes, this was a mistake that Timothy made, but do you really think he had any reason to expect this result? Has anything in your investigation turned up a reason for Timothy to expect murder?"

"We don't _have_ anything yet, Ducky. We don't know who killed Ormond. We don't know why. We don't even know if it was Tim who was the target or if it was the professor! We only know what probably placed Tim in the office. That's it."

"It's all right to admit to being worried, Jethro," Ducky said.

Gibbs grimaced and then looked back at the hospital.

"If Timothy _was_ the target, he may still be in danger...and even if he wasn't, what if the person who attacked him realizes that Timothy may be able to identify him? Jethro, it might be a bad idea to give up our vigils now...when Timothy has first awakened."

Gibbs looked at him, the wheels turning. None of them had really considered that as a possibility, perhaps because they'd all been at the hospital so much anyway. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and called. Ducky heard him asking for agents to be put on duty at the hospital until they could be sure that Tim wasn't in any danger.

Now that Tim was awake, the last thing they wanted was to lose him again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim? Can you wake up?" Naomi asked softly. She squeezed Tim's hand gently and waited.

For a few seconds, there was no response. Then, Tim's eyes flickered opened and he squeezed her hand back. Weakly, yes, but there was movement there. Naomi smiled.

"Tim, welcome back."

Tim started making some sounds that didn't seem to be related to anything like coherent thought. Still, he did look _at_ her. Sam rolled closer to the bed.

"Tim, what are you trying to say?" Sam asked.

Tim's eyes flitted to him. There was little comprehension, but he was saying _something_, even if they couldn't understand it.

"Dad..." Tim said with a slight upturn to his lips that indicated the possibility of a smile. "Moooommm..."

It was almost like he was struggling to wake up, fighting against whatever it was that was holding him back, but at the same time, he seemed only vaguely engaged in the waking world. Dr. Marteen had explained that it would likely take time for Tim to fully wake up. Still, they wanted to help their son, but they couldn't seem to do anything for him.

Tim's eyes slipped closed again and he resumed mumbling.

"Tim, what is it?"

Tim squeezed Naomi's hand again and kept making sounds they didn't recognize.

"He has to be meaning _something_, Sam. This isn't random sounds. Even if he can't communicate it to us, there's something he's thinking."

"I'd like to believe you're right, Naomi, but..."

"No. No, this is something we're just not getting, and it may have to wait until he's more awake for us to understand him, but there's something going on in his head. We haven't lost him."

Naomi leaned over and kissed Tim on the forehead.

"We'll wait, Tim. We can wait until you're ready. Don't worry about a thing."

Tim's eyes opened again and he looked at Naomi again.

"Moommm..."

"I'm here, Tim."

"Whaaaa..."

Whatever he was trying to say, Naomi didn't know, but she refused to believe that there was nothing behind what her son was doing. She just had to believe that Tim's mind was still there.

"Just be patient, Tim. We'll be patient, too."

Tim's eyes closed and the sounds faded away as he fell asleep again.

"He'll get back to us, Sam. I know he will."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A number of grad students had got together and were talking about what little they knew in hushed voices. Because they had found Tim and Charles, Lancer and Arnold were the reluctant centers of attention. Neither of them had really been able to get past what they'd seen in the office, but they were there.

"So...do they think that Charles attacked Tim or Tim attacked Charles?" Pradnya asked.

"I don't know. They didn't tell us," Lancer said. "We were only in on the beginning. Whatever they've found since then...it hasn't been anything we know."

"Eric?"

Eric shook his head.

"I don't know, either. They were asking me about how Charles and Tim felt about each other...but if that means anything, I don't know."

"This just...doesn't happen," Bob said. "It's grad school, not some inner city gang or something."

"It did happen," Arnold said. "It was awful. I hope I never see anything like that again. Ever."

Bao hugged Arnold quickly.

Lancer looked around at everyone, wishing he was gone. He couldn't get the image of Charles and his crushed head out of his mind. It was terrible.

Whoever had done this was a psycho. He couldn't think of any other reason for the horror show he had seen in Charles' office. ...and what if Tim never woke up? What if he was in a coma forever? What if he died? What if he woke up but was brain damaged? So many questions and no answers.

It wasn't fair.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The CT scan showed dramatic improvement in Tim's intracranial pressure over the next couple of days. He was still asleep most of the time, but they could wake him up and he would actually look at them. He still seemed stuck in mostly gibberish when he spoke, but he did seem aware enough to look at people around him and recognize them.

They were fortunate that, when Tim's speech cleared up a little bit, Abby was there because, of the NCIS people and Tim's family, she was the only one who could have recognized what he was saying.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Gibbs, I have a problem," Abby said. "Besides the fact that I'm still here and not seeing Tim at the hospital, something is wrong with the security video."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Gibbs! I have been working _all_ day on this stuff...stuck here while Tim is lying in a hospital bed. The _least_ you could do is give me some sort of positive reinforcement!"

"You get enough of that as it is, Abbs. What is it."

Abby sighed dramatically and then turned to her computer.

"Okay. Look. Here's the video from the main entrance." She sped through the arrival of Tim and then, Lancer and Arnold and then to the arrival of campus security and Eric's arrival later. "And we didn't find anything showing someone else getting there that we didn't already know about. That would have confined the guilty party to whoever was in the building, right?"

"Wrong?"

"Exactly. These are digital videos. No tape anymore. Someone must have hacked into the database because the time stamps are all wrong. When I double-checked everything, I found that there's duplicated images in there."

"How?"

"Look at this." Abby pulled up the video from one section of the video. People were walking by. Specifically, there was a group of three girls walking together, laughing about something. "Okay, now a little bit later. Look. Same girls. Same gestures. Same _everything_. That one was obvious once I saw it; so I started looking at the other cameras."

"And?"

"And all of the cameras at the Computer Science building are missing time. The _same_ time."

"How much of it?"

"A couple of hours before Tim got there and about half an hour after Lancer and Arnold got there. Someone hacked the cameras and got rid of the evidence they were there. You're not confined to the people in the building anymore, Gibbs. It could be _anyone_! It could be for any reason! What if it's someone who doesn't have anything to do with the university and they were just after Tim? What if–?"

"Abby, let's not make more trouble than we need to. We'll think of something. Go to the hospital. We'll figure this out tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Abby asked, hopefully.

"Yes. Go."

Abby grinned, hugged Gibbs quickly and then ran out of the lab. Gibbs sat down and looked at the monitor. Abby had brought up a good question. What if it _didn't_ have anything to do with what Tim was doing there? But how many people were there in Tim's past that would hold a grudge strong enough to want to kill him? And if it wasn't Tim, what about Charles? Had he irritated or angered anyone enough to warrant murder?

Gibbs grimaced. He hated it when new information expanded his search instead of confined it. Still, it was something to try. When they had so little to go on, he supposed it was better than having absolutely nothing. He headed up to the bullpen to set Tony and Ziva chasing down possibilities.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby poked her head into the ICU.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

Naomi looked over and smiled.

"Of course, Abby. Actually, I was about to suggest that Sam and I take a break. You can keep Tim company while we get something to eat."

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"No, not at all. We've been talking to Tim. It's been mostly a one-sided conversation."

"Oh, no," Sam interjected. "Tim is just practicing the other side of conversation: listening. There's an old Chinese proverb. 'To listen well is as powerful a means of influence as to talk well, and is as essential to all true conversation.' We'll get Tim to contribute to the talking well part soon enough."

"_Is _he talking?"

"Not...not really. I feel like there's something he's trying to say," Naomi said, "but mostly it's gibberish. We'll get a word here and there, but that's it."

"Okay. I'll talk to him for a while."

Abby sat down by the bed and smiled at Tim. If she were honest, she was a little uncomfortable seeing Tim like this, but she was never one to let herself be held back by a little discomfort.

"Hi, Tim! How are you feeling?"

Tim's eyes opened. They moved around the room for a few seconds and then rested on Abby. He started the same strange mumbling he'd been doing since he woke up.

"You're looking more awake now than you were. We've been trying to figure out what was going on. It would be so much easier if you could tell us, but we know that you need time. So don't worry about it."

Tim's hand twitched and Abby took hold of it. She smiled.

"If you wanted me to hold your hand, all you had to do was say so."

Tim's hand squeezed hers almost like a continuous spasm, over and over again. Abby focused on Tim more closely.

"What is it, Tim? Is something wrong? Do you have some...pain or something?"

Tim kept mumbling. Abby listened more carefully. ...and she heard a word she thought she recognized.

"Namespace? Is that what you said?"

Tim kept talking, barely looking at her. His words were muddled at best. She squeezed his hand to let him know that she was listening. She couldn't understand everything he said, but she heard enough to figure out what he was talking about. In general terms.

"What program is this, Tim?"

"...Sherrrrmmmannn..."

"Sherman? You mean your advisor?" Abby asked. "Does he know what you're talking about?"

Tim didn't reply. His mind was preoccupied and it appeared that he was unable to focus on Abby's question. Abby's brow furrowed as she considered what might be best to do. So far as she knew Sherman wasn't under suspicion since he'd been with his students. She thought that she might know what program Tim was talking about, but it would be nice to have confirmation.

"Okay, Tim. I'm going to call your advisor...and I'll let Gibbs yell at me if he wants to."

She walked out of the ICU and called the computer science department. Tim had given them all contact info for the university, just in case. Abby had programmed it into her phone. Just in case. She navigated through the department menus until she got to a real person. Then, she explained what she needed and got patched through to Sherman.

"_Hello, this is Sherman Wight."_

"Hi...Professor Wight, this is Abby Sciuto from NCIS."

"_Of course, Tim talked about you a lot. How is he doing?"_

"Well...he's awake, but he's only kind of here. Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor."

"_What is it?"_

"Tim's started reciting computer coding. I can't understand everything, but he's using the programming language that is typical for him, but I don't recognize the program. I was wondering if it was the program he's been working on for you. Could you come over here?"

"_And listen?"_

"Yeah."

"_Do you think it will help?"_

"Well...Tim's been so out of it, but he's been mumbling like this since he woke up. It's only been in the last day that he's been clear enough to understand, and he said your name."

"_Really? Of course, I can come if you think it's something that will make a difference. I'm more than happy to help."_

"Thank you!"

Abby hung up and went back into the ICU. Tim's eyes were closed again. She sat down and took his hand.

"I'm back, Tim," she said, keeping her voice relatively soft.

Tim's eyes opened and wandered again before seeing her.

"Hi. I called Sherman. He's coming. Is that what you wanted?"

Tim stared at her for a long moment and then, to her surprise and joy, he nodded. Or at least he moved his head in a motion that _looked_ like a nod. She smiled.

"Good. We're trying to figure everything out, but I'll admit that we're kind of stumped right now. We're just not working as well without our favorite geek."

Tim squeezed her hand just a little.

"Everyone's been really worried."

That seemed to trigger something for Tim. He started mumbling his computer code again. Abby just held his hand and let him talk...if that's what he meant to do. After a while, Geri Weaver, the NCIS agent on guard, stuck her head into the room.

"Hey, Abby. You expecting a professor from the university in here?"

"Oh...sorry, Geri. I should have told you."

Geri nodded. "Yeah, you should. You know that access to Tim is being restricted until we know who attacked him."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't even think."

"I noticed. Well, he's here."

"Thanks."

Sherman came into the ICU, looking a bit awkward, truth be told.

"Ms. Sciuto?" he asked.

"Hi, Professor Wight! Come on over."

Sherman walked over and smiled uncomfortably.

"Not used to seeing people in a hospital?" Abby asked.

"You could say that," Sherman said.

"What else could I say?"

"Nothing. You wanted me to hear what Tim had to say?"

"Yeah." Abby squeezed Tim's hand. His eyes had closed again. "Tim, Sherman is here. I can call you Sherman?"

"Yes. That's fine."

Tim's eyes opened and he looked at Abby, first.

"Sherman's here, Tim. You want to tell him about the code?"

Tim's eyes moved gradually around the room. Abby let him find Sherman himself. Even if Tim's mind wasn't completely engaged, he wasn't a person liked being mollycoddled.

The moment his eyes found Sherman, Tim started talking again. It was the same slurred mumbling as before, but it was incessant. Sherman leaned forward and listened. He pulled out a small notepad and began jotting words down. Abby was bursting to ask him if her guess was right, but she tried to be patient. Tim deserved the chance to get out whatever it was that he was trying to say.

After a few minutes, Sherman actually laughed and sat back.

"What's so funny?"

"If I'm understanding him correctly, Tim was trying to explain a bug he'd found in his program. Just a little thing in the beginning that didn't stop it from running but wasn't right. Is that what you meant, Tim?"

There was a squeeze and Abby smiled.

"He just squeezed my hand. I think that means yes. So it was from his program, then?"

"Yes. I guess it makes sense. He was testing it that night. It would be on his mind."

"I guess I was kind of hoping he was telling us who the bad guy was."

Sherman smiled a little. "Well...if he is, I don't know that part. It's the computer stuff that I get."

Abby looked fondly at Tim, whose eyelids were getting heavy again. Now that he'd given the information he had felt so important, he was sliding toward sleep. She kissed him on the cheek.

"You can sleep, Tim. Thanks for telling us."

Tim's eyes closed once again and his grip on her hand relaxed.

"Thanks for coming, Sherman. I hope it wasn't a waste of time."

"No. It wasn't. I'm not surprised Tim was focused on a mistake. He does that."

"Yeah, he does. Tim doesn't like to make mistakes."

"Will he consider all this a mistake?"

"What do you mean?"

"What happened to him...would Tim consider this a mistake?"

"He might," Abby said. "He really could because he does that sometimes...even when it's not his fault."

Sherman nodded and the awkwardness was back.

"You don't have to stay," Abby said.

Sherman looked like he wanted nothing more than to get away. He did smile a little sheepishly.

"I'm pretty obvious, aren't I."

"Yeah."

He nodded again and stood up, taking Abby's offered out.

"By the way, some of the students have asked if they can come and visit. Is that an option?"

Abby hedged.

"Until we clear everyone..."

"I see. I'm an exception?"

"Actually...if Gibbs knew that I'd just asked you to come without checking first, he'd be really upset."

"I won't just drop by in the future."

Abby could see that he didn't plan on dropping by at all...and she couldn't help wondering why he was so awkward.

"That's probably a good idea."

"Well...I'll be going then," Sherman said, _extremely_ awkwardly, and then left the ICU.

Abby sat beside Tim.

"Is there something going on with him, Tim?" Abby asked softly. "Lots of people don't like hospitals, but I've never seen someone so...uncomfortable. So _obviously_ uncomfortable. Do you think that it's possible that...that he had something to do with all this?"

"Nnnno..."

Abby jumped and looked over at Tim. His eyes were open again, only to slits but still...

"I thought you were asleep, Tim!"

"...nnnnot Shermannn..."

"Do you know why he was like that?"

"...not Shermannnn..." Tim said again.

His eyes closed once again.

Abby was actually thrilled by the brief exchange. Tim had heard her. He had _understood_ her and he had responded. He had said no to her idea, but Tim wouldn't want to believe that Sherman could be involved in something wrong. Tim liked Sherman and had loved working with him. The thoughts that Abby now had, though, should be mentioned to Gibbs. It wouldn't be the first time that a seemingly-innocent person had ended up being guilty...of _something_.

When Tim's parents got back, Abby excused herself and pulled out her phone as soon as she got out of the hospital.

"Gibbs...I had a thought, and you'll yell at me for why I had it. How sure are you that Sherman had nothing to do with what happened?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The next morning, they met up to confer on where to go next, but there was something Gibbs needed to take care of, first.

"Abby, what you did was stupid," he said. "What if you're right and Sherman Wight is involved somehow? You invited him right into the room!"

"But, Gibbs, Geri was right outside!"

"And what if he'd had a gun? What good would Geri have been out there? What if someone else in the ICU was injured, too? You need to _think_!"

Abby dropped her head.

"I know I should have thought first, but I didn't, and it was okay!"

"And I'm glad, but you can't keep ignoring what we put in place to keep people safe."

"I just thought that Tim might have been trying to tell us what happened."

"And he wasn't, was he."

"No. Sherman said it was a bug in his program that he was trying to fix."

The dressing down wasn't something that Abby usually got, and Gibbs knew that Tony and Ziva were uncomfortable witnessing it.

"So it was nothing."

"No!" Abby's head came up. "No, it wasn't nothing. Tim's aware enough to want to fix something! He's aware enough to try to communicate. That means he's still there! He can get better!"

Gibbs took a breath and turned to Tony and Ziva.

"Go and ask Professor Wight about where he was during those two hours Abby found missing."

"And find out if there's something more behind his not wanting to be in the ICU," Tony finished. "You know, Boss...some people just don't like hospitals."

"I know."

"Right."

"Talk to Roger Brown about how easy it would have been to get into the security cameras...by the people in his department."

"Right."

They hurried out and Gibbs turned back to Abby. He just raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs," she said.

He nodded and gestured for her to get back to work. That was the best he could expect from her. He knew it, although he didn't like it. Abby nodded and got on the elevator to go down to the lab. Gibbs sat down for a moment but then, he headed up the stairs to the conference room. Charles Ormond's sister had come at his request and he had to ask her questions she probably wouldn't appreciate because it would seem like NCIS was trying to drag Charles down. Even if Gibbs was angry about everything Charles had done to Tim, it really had nothing to do with it. They were just trying to figure things out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony and Ziva knocked on Sherman's office door.

"Come in. It's open!"

They walked in, and Sherman raised his eyebrows when he looked up and saw them.

"NCIS? Again? Is there something more you need to ask me?"

"Yes," Ziva said. "We have a few questions for you."

"All right. Have a seat."

They sat down on the other side of the desk.

"I'm sorry about the mess. This is the time of the year when things start to get close to critical mass. I can't get rid of any papers yet and there are more coming in. It's a madhouse."

"It looks like it," Tony said.

"What are your questions?"

"We need to know where you were on the day Ormond was killed between the hours of three and nine."

"Why? I thought I'd already given enough information about my whereabouts."

"Humor us," Tony said.

"Well...for most of that time, I was right here. Starting at around six-thirty, I had my students and we were working in a classroom on a project for a conference. I'm sorry, but no one can verify that. I prefer silence to music when I'm working. I tend to isolate myself in my office for long periods of time when I have deadlines." He sat back and looked suddenly uncertain.

"What is it, Professor Wight?" Ziva asked.

"Did this happen because of Tim's dissertation? I've been going over and over it my head, and I know that you may not be able to answer that question, but if he had been doing something else..."

"There's no way to know for sure. We don't even know if it was about Tim or about Professor Ormond," Tony said. "Is that why you were so uncomfortable when you visited Tim in the hospital?"

Sherman looked a bit embarrassed.

"Not really. That thought didn't hit me until I was talking with Ms. Sciuto about...mistakes. It contributed to my desire to leave, I will admit. Is that what this is about? I was too awkward?"

"It's part of it," Tony said, seeing no reason to lie. "Not all."

Sherman sighed.

"So does that mean you need to know? It has nothing to do with your investigation."

"It may not, but it will help if you tell us," Ziva said.

"Okay. Well, it's nothing exciting. I hate the ICU. _Really_ hate it. My younger brother had cancer. Untreatable. He was in an ICU for the last three months of his life, and we would go there every day...and just watch him get weaker and weaker. This was over twenty years ago. I'm not feeling the trauma by any means, but I hated sitting next to him, knowing that there was nothing anyone could do. We just had to watch him deteriorate. It's a hard thing to do." Sherman took a deep breath. "When I realized where Tim was, although I should have thought of it sooner...where else _would_ he be given the situation, I couldn't help but think of my brother. I didn't want to be there, and I left when I could, although I'm glad that Tim is improving rather than the alternative. If you need to verify that, my brother's name was Anthony Wight. He died in 1988, in Seattle. He was going to be in the Marine Corps. Got all signed up, but then...cancer."

"I'm sorry," Tony said.

"It's all right. Like I said, it was a long time ago, but I've never liked going into an ICU since then. I'm sure _no one_ really likes the ICU, but I know that my reaction to it is extreme."

"Thank you for telling us," Ziva said.

"I hope I wasn't too much of a distraction. I do want you to be able to find the person who killed Charles."

"We'll find whoever it was," Tony said. "Thanks for your time."

They got up and left Sherman's office and headed for Roger's.

"I'd bet that Wight was being sincere."

"I would, as well," Ziva agreed. "It is easy to check if he is lying about how his brother died."

"Yeah. Let's get this other stuff done."

They knocked on Roger's door, but there was no answer.

"He's in class right now. You're the NCIS people, aren't you? I think I saw you here before."

They turned and saw a student. He looked familiar.

"Arnold George, correct?" Ziva asked.

"Y-Yeah. You remember? I saw you for like three seconds."

"I have an excellent memory," Ziva said.

"And we've been investigating," Tony said.

"Oh. Right."

He seemed very uncertain.

"D-Do you need to know where he's teaching? I can...I can tell you."

Tony looked at Ziva and smiled. They were thinking the same thing. _He's like Tim as a probie._

"Do you know how long his class will go?"

Arnold looked at his watch.

"Only about twenty more minutes. Hey...do you...know how...how Tim is doing? We heard that he was waking up and stuff...but..."

"He's still asleep more than awake," Tony said. "He's getting better, but it's going to take a while."

"I... Lancer kept his head when we found them. I totally freaked out."

In fact, he looked a little green just thinking about that night.

"It's okay," Tony said. "Some people do. It doesn't make them bad."

"Wussy, though," Arnold said.

"Actually, you remind us of Tim a few years ago, when he was relatively new to NCIS."

"Really?" Arnold asked. "Why?"

"There are just some similarities. Some in the way you look..."

"The little bit of uncertainty," Tony added. "...and the fact that you're probably at least twenty times smarter than we are."

Arnold flushed a little, but he looked less distressed.

"Have you spoken to anyone about your experience?" Ziva asked. "If you are not trained for it, seeing a dead body can be very difficult."

Arnold shook his head.

"No. Lancer and I have talked a bit about it to each other. The other students have asked us a lot of questions...and I'm pretty sure Lancer doesn't like it. He's been having a hard time, too, although he doesn't want to talk really. He said that he can't forget how it felt to touch a dead body."

Ziva looked at Tony significantly. These were two students. Yes, they were competent adults, but this was something completely out of their experience and both of them could probably use some help.

"If you'd take our recommendation," Tony said, "you should both take the time to talk to someone. If you can't get anyone yourselves, ask us. We can get you someone to talk to."

"Thanks," Arnold said. "Did you need to talk to anyone else besides Roger?"

"Actually, are there any other students around right now?"

"Sure. In the common room."

"Show us?"

"Sure."

Arnold led them to the common room. There were six students sitting around, talking, working. When they saw the NCIS agents, however, they fell silent.

"Hello, we're from NCIS," Tony said. "I'm Agent DiNozzo. This is Agent David. We just have a question to ask all of you."

"All of us?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"Did any of you ever know of someone showing up here who had any problems with Professor Ormond?" Tony asked.

"You mean besides how crappy he treated Tim?" one of the students asked.

"Yes, besides that," Ziva said. "We are trying to figure out the motive in killing Professor Ormond. If there was someone..."

"I can't think of anyone," one of the other students said. "Eric might know better since he was hanging out with Charles more than the rest of us. He's not here right now. He's in and out a lot."

"None of you noticed anyone?" Tony asked.

They all shook their heads and mumbled negative replies.

"If you think of anything, let us know. Thanks for your time."

They left the room, but they didn't get very far. Arnold had followed them out.

"Hey...could I ask you a favor?" Arnold asked.

"Of course," Ziva said. "What is it?"

"I know Lancer is working in one of the classrooms. He's started staying out of the common room because people keep asking questions. Would you go and tell him what you told me? ...and I'd like to talk to someone. I don't think the counselors they have on campus would really be...ready for this kind of thing." He smiled a little.

"Sure. We'll talk to him," Tony said.

They walked to an empty classroom. Lancer was sitting at a table, typing away at a laptop.

"Lancer...there are a couple of NCIS agents here."

Lancer looked up and seemed wary.

"What is it? I can't think of anything I didn't tell you already."

"We were just asking the other students if they had ever noticed anyone hanging around here who might have had a grudge against Professor Ormond."

Lancer shook his head.

"No. I can't think of anyone who would have wanted to... I can't think of anything like that."

Tony sat down.

"Arnold said you'd been having some trouble with what you saw."

Lancer shrugged. "No one would like seeing that."

"But you were the one down there keeping Tim alive."

Lancer looked back at his laptop.

"Yeah. I had to touch Charles. It was... His head was crushed, you know. He was dead, but I couldn't help wondering if I missed a heartbeat because I wanted to save Tim more than I wanted to save Charles. What if he was alive and I didn't notice? What if–?"

"You can't think of it like that because you saved Tim. You kept him alive. Nothing could have saved Professor Ormond," Tony said. "There was too much damage, but Tim could have died if he had been left."

Ziva sat down as well.

"Arnold has asked for someone he could speak to about what happened on that night. I think it would be good for you to do so, too," she said. "When we have had hard investigations, we are _required_ to speak to a psychiatrist about it. It is not required for you, but you should do so since it is obviously still hard for you."

"What do you think?" Tony asked.

Lancer shrugged a little.

"You don't think it'll just go away?"

"These kinds of things don't usually."

"Okay. I guess I wouldn't mind."

"We'll get some recommendations and give them to you."

"Thanks." Lancer looked at them briefly. "I have to finish this."

Tony could sense the dismissal and he got up. Ziva followed suit and they headed back to Roger's office to wait.

"I'm sorry that those two didn't get help sooner. They could have if we'd thought of it."

"Yes. Lancer, especially, seems upset by it. He has had too much time to think about all the possible things he could have done wrong."

Tony nodded. "I meant what I said, though. He kept Tim alive."

"I agree."

"What do you think Professor Brown will say?"

Ziva smiled. "That any person in this department could have tampered with the security cameras."

"Without leaving a trace, though? That's more than just skills. That's real skills."

"These are graduate students in computer science, Tony," Ziva said. "They _must_ have real skills already."

"I guess so."

They waited, mostly quietly, until Roger appeared. He was surprised to see them there, but he smiled and didn't hesitate to approach.

"Agent DiNozzo, what more can I do for you?"

"I am Agent David, and we have a question we need to ask you regarding the students and faculty here."

"Of course. Come into my office."

He unlocked the door and let them in. It was larger than Sherman's office, since Roger was the department head, but it was still cluttered. He sat down and gestured for them to sit as well.

"What's your question?" he asked.

"We have discovered that the security cameras were tampered with," Ziva said. "Who in this department could have done that?"

"Anyone, probably."

"Without leaving a trace?" Tony asked.

"Well... probably still most of the faculty, if not all of us. Most of the graduate students, although that would be mainly the security-minded students among us. We don't teach how to hack, you understand, but when your focus is on _preventing_ hacking, it's hard not to pick up a few skills because you have to know what to expect in order to protect against it."

That was more or less what they'd expected, but they had hoped to have the field narrowed somewhat. They weren't sharing the implications of the tampering, but they did need to have something to confine their search.

"Did you know of anyone who had a grudge against Professor Ormond?"

"Well, I know his ex-wife wasn't too happy with him. The divorce was pretty nasty, but I can't imagine her getting violent. Besides, she moved across the country just to get away from him."

"Get away?"

"I mean because the split was so...acrimonious. I never could figure out why they got married in the first place. All the time I've known Charles, they were never getting along."

"When did the divorce take place?"

"Four years ago, I think. Charles was good about keeping it out of the department. I don't even think the students knew he was married...which maybe was part of the problem. He was too focused here and not enough on his marriage."

"Is that where your date night came from?" Tony asked.

Roger smiled. "No. It predates the divorce. It happened when I became the department head."

"Anyone else?"

"No. I can't think of anyone else who might still be angry with him...and definitely not enough to kill. Charles wasn't like that."

"All right. Thank you. If you think of anything..."

"I still have your card, Agent DiNozzo. I will definitely let you know."

They all stood, shook hands and left.

"Well, that was a bust," Tony said as they got in the car. "Except for hopefully helping out Arnold and Lancer, we didn't get anywhere."

"But that was a very good thing. Tim would be glad of it," Ziva said.

"Yeah, he would."

They headed back to NCIS.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs wasn't sure which was worse. Dealing with grieving families or dealing with angry families.

...or angry grieving families.

Charles Ormond's sister was defensive and furious at the perceived implication that her brother could have been involved in anything illegal.

"I am not going to sit here and let you drag Charles' name through the mud!"

Tracy Snyder stood up, ready to storm out.

"I'm not accusing your brother of anything, Ms. Snyder," Gibbs said, keeping himself calm.

"You just asked me if he could have been involved in something that got him killed! The only thing that seems to have been related to his death is _your_ agent! And he told me all about him; so don't try and pretend that he's this innocent angel."

"What did your brother tell you?"

Tracy sat down again.

"He lorded his different status over everyone. He acted like he didn't have to measure up to the same standard as the other students just because he was in law enforcement. He had everyone's admiration...except for Charles' and Charles knew him for what he was: he wasn't devoted to what he was doing. All he was doing was looking for something to make himself special."

Gibbs wanted to tell her just how wrong she was about Tim, but he reined himself in. All she had was what her brother had said, and she was grieving.

"Don't forget, Ms. Snyder, that my agent was attacked, too. I'm not trying to set this up as my agent against your brother. All I'm trying to do is find out what happened. If you don't know of anyone who might have had this kind of grudge against your brother, that's all I need to know."

Tracy looked ready to shout at him again, but then, she sat down.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs. Charles and I...we were almost like twins growing up. To see him like he was..."

"So your brother never had any problems with debts or gambling...anything like that?"

"No! Charles would _never_ do any of that. He was always determined to be completely in control of himself and what he did. He'd never cede that control to something or someone else. Never."

"All right."

"Do you have any idea who did this?"

"Only that it was probably the same person who killed your brother and attacked my agent."

"And are you seeing if there's anyone your agent might have offended?" Tracy asked, sounding bitter.

"We're looking into every angle," Gibbs said without giving anything away.

"Do you have any other questions for me?"

"No. Thank you."

Gibbs led her out of NCIS and then came back in. Another dead end. If Charles _had_ been involved in something, he clearly hadn't told his sister about it.

It still seemed like this had to be related to what Tim had discovered in his program. Unfortunately, that was where things were leading. So...whoever had been the hacker was probably the killer, too.

...but who was it?


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Tim heard voices speaking around him. He felt like he was thinking through wool. Itchy, scratchy, thick wool. The kind that had made a sweater he'd really disliked as a child. His grandmother had given it to him and so he'd been forced to wear it. Thick, unpleasant wool. Still, he had a feeling that there was something going on around him. He thought he might hear voices. Sometimes, when he opened his eyes, he saw people he thought he knew. Sometimes, he felt like he had something to tell them.

Most of the time, though, nothing really made sense and he fell back into a kind of nothingness. It was okay for him. He didn't need to know it all. He didn't need all that. He just needed to float along in this haze and blur of...stuff.

If something important came along, he supposed that it would be obvious.

After an unknown time, he became aware of a different feeling. It was a feeling of...something. He didn't know what it was. It was just something and it needed investigation.

He opened his eyes.

"Hey! Probie, good...well, good evening."

Tim turned his head toward the voice and saw someone who was way to energetic and excited. This was no time to be loud and celebratory.

"Tony?" he asked. Yes, that was who this loud person was. He knew this person.

"How are you feeling?"

"...confussssed?" Tim suggested. That seemed right for what was going on.

"Congratulations, Probie. You said a two-syllable word. I think that's a first."

Tim couldn't follow that.

"What..." What was the next word? "...happened...Tony?"

Saying that was really hard. He didn't know why.

"You were attacked, Tim. Do you remember?"

Tim analyzed that statement...or he tried to. Attacked? Really? When? Why?

"No," he said finally. "I...don't..."

"Do you remember working on your program on campus?"

Tim looked at Tony for a long moment. Tony was being strangely patient.

"Am...I dead?" he asked.

"No! Why?"

"You...are..." The words just weren't there and he drifted a little while trying to figure it out.

"You're not dead, Tim...but we were afraid you might have been."

"Oh. Am...Where...can't...think." Words were defeating him...as was thought.

"It's okay. Let me tell you what happened, okay?"

"Yeah."

"We don't know exactly yet, but you were working and someone attacked you, almost killed you. You got hit on the head. Twice. You were in a coma for a few days and you've been...kind of out of it for the last week. This is the most awake you've been. Do you remember being awake before?"

Tim thought about that. Remembering was really hard for some reason. Tony didn't rush him. Tim didn't know how long he spent thinking about the idea of accessing recent memories. Finally, he could say that, yes, there were vague images he had of people sitting about where Tony was. He could think of Ducky, Gibbs, Abby, his parents, Sarah...and even Sherman, maybe.

"Yes?"

"Is that a question?" Tony asked.

Tim opened his eyes (when had they closed?) and saw that Tony was smiling.

"No. ...remember...I think...hard to...think."

"Your brain is taking its time healing. You're going to make it, Probie. Just give it time."

"...um...Sherman?"

"What about him?"

"Codes...something...I told..."

"What did you tell him?"

Tim struggled to bring something that was wrapped in that itchy wool forward in his mind. It was there. He knew that much.

"Something...wasn't...working right. The coding...wrong. I wanted...fix it."

Tony picked up Tim's hand and gave him five.

"Way to go, Probie. Good job."

Tim tried to lift his own hand, but it was too heavy. It was like when his arms fell asleep overnight. He just couldn't get it to move right. In fact, just trying it exhausted him.

"Tony...I...can't...do things."

"You're getting better. It's okay."

"Really?"

"Really."

Tim tried to nod...and he thought he succeeded.

"Everyone is going to be really happy that you're starting to be more awake, Tim," Tony said. "We've been hoping."

"Don't...feel...very awake."

"You're much better than you were. Promise."

"Okay."

"You want to sleep more?"

"Yeah. Tired."

"Okay. Good night, Probie."

Tim closed his eyes and fell back into the haze. It was definitely easier than trying to comprehend all of this other stuff. Maybe the next time he woke up things would be clearer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony watched as Tim fell asleep again. This was definitely the most alert he'd been since waking, but it was kind of discouraging to see him so...slow.

However, this improvement was something he should report. He smiled at Tim's sleeping form and then headed out, waving to Lara (who had taken over from Geri on guard duty), and then going to a place he could use his cell phone.

"_Gibbs."_

"I talked to Tim and he was a lot more awake. He almost spoke in complete sentences!"

"_And?"_

"Well...he doesn't remember anything about what happened right now. I don't know if that means he won't ever...but he did remember people being here talking to him. He also verified what Sherman said about his mumbling computer codes."

"_What did you tell him?"_

"I told him that he'd been attacked and that he'd been on campus, but I didn't tell him about Ormond being killed or anything else. I figured that it wouldn't help him right now...and he didn't seem to notice."

"_Okay. What's he doing now?"_

"Sleeping again."

"_Don't stay too late."_

Tony smiled. "Yes, mother...uh, Boss."

Gibbs just hung up. Tony smiled and then headed back to Tim's room. He was definitely asleep, but Tony was glad to see that it was sleep rather than unconsciousness.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next time Tim woke up, he remembered Tony having been there. He opened his eyes and the room wasn't quite so confusing as it had been.

"Tony?" he asked.

"He's not here, Tim."

Tim turned his head to the side a little bit.

"Mom...Tony...was here...wasn't he?"

She smiled. "Yes, he was. Last night."

"Oh."

"How are you feeling today? Still confused?"

"Little...but...in a hospital...right?"

"Yes. Do you remember why?"

Tim thought about it. "Tony...said...I got hit on the head...or something."

"Yes."

"Must have been...bad..."

"Why do you say that?"

Tim smiled a little. "You're...here. ...wasn't bad...wouldn't have called you."

Naomi smiled in reply. "You're right. It was."

"Dad?"

"He's actually just outside. He'll be in soon."

"Okay."

Then, the door opened. Tim managed to turn his head toward the sound. He saw his dad and a doctor-looking person beside him.

"Tim! You're awake again! Excellent. Longfellow said that, 'if you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.' Looks like we've finally got you up."

Tim smiled a little although he was starting to feel tired again. The doctor leaned over and started examining him.

"I don't think you'll be up for much longer, Agent McGee. Am I right?"

"I...am still tired. Why?"

"Because you've been in a coma and you almost died. That has a way of taking it out of people. I'm Dr. Marteen, by the way. I'm sure you don't remember me from before."

"The...name is familiar...I think."

"It could be. You would have heard it more than once while you were in your coma."

"Oh."

Dr. Marteen continued his exam. Tim just let him do whatever. It didn't seem interesting enough to keep him from drifting off.

"Okay. We'll schedule another scan for tomorrow and see how things are going in there, but it looks like you're recovering quite well, Agent McGee."

Tim started just a little. He hadn't really even noticed the time passing.

"It's okay if you're still a little out of it," Dr. Marteen said with a smile. "You have the time to get better and I'm pleased that you've kept your short _and_ long-term memory."

"Me, too." Something started moving around in Tim's head. He couldn't figure out what it was, but it bothered him. It was...important. He thought it was very important, but he didn't have the slightest idea what it was.

"What is it, Tim?"

"I don't...know...something...I need to know...I think."

Tim looked at his parents.

"...can't...remember...can't catch it...won't...stop moving." Tim was trying to get it, trying to figure it out...but it was just too hard. Whatever it was wouldn't stay still long enough for him to think about it.

"It's all right, Tim," Naomi said gently. "You'll remember when it's time to."

"...but...no...I..." Tim closed his eyes, trying desperately to make his brain work. It just wouldn't.

He felt a hand on his cheek and another hand holding his.

"Tim, relax. You're not going to force it to come like this. Whatever it is, it can wait."

"What...if it can't?" Tim asked.

He opened his eyes and looked at his parents.

"What...if...really matters?"

"It still can wait. Just rest, Tim," Sam said.

Tim didn't want to, but he couldn't stay away. He couldn't focus. He slipped away into the haze of darkness.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's so much more aware now," Naomi said after Tim relaxed into sleep. "Why? It seems so sudden."

"His ICP is way down which means the swelling is going down. I think your son is going to be one of the fortunate people who manages to heal. A lot of people do suffer from symptoms like anxiety, even something like PTSD, and I wouldn't assume that your son will be able to avoid all of that, but his memory is intact. That's amazing for someone with his injury. As he becomes more aware, it's possible that he'll remember more, but he also may not. That's something you'll have to help him accept. Head injuries are hard to predict. Sometimes, you think nothing could improve and there will be a sudden dramatic change for the better. Sometimes, you think it's a simple case of getting better and they take a nosedive. For all that we know about the human body, the brain...or rather the _mind_ is something we just know very little about still."

"I'm not complaining, but it's a surprise even with the struggles that he still has. He's stumbling over words and sometimes, he was not really saying everything I think he wanted to say. ...but I could actually see Tim there. It wasn't just that...stranger staring at us. It was our son."

"My guess is that he'll continue to improve every time you see him, but be careful about assuming he's fine. Even when he's speaking more clearly, there will be challenges. He came close to dying, and that's not something he'll get over very quickly."

"Of course," Sam said. "We're just glad that we have the chance to see him getting better."

"He's just getting started on his recovery; so you have a lot of chances coming up."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs and Ziva sat down in the conference room across from Roger, Jaye and Sherman. As the people who had got Tim working on the program that seemed to be involved in what was going on, they had decided to get more details on what their classified projects were. They'd already had some information, but now they needed more.

All three had been reluctant to share details which was understandable. However, they had to have something to break the deadlock they were currently facing. Tim was only barely coherent. Charles didn't seem to have any enemies. They hadn't been able to solidly eliminate anyone as a suspect. The program Tim had been working on seemed to be the key...and he couldn't explain anything to them right now.

"We know that you would rather keep these things secret," Ziva said, "but it could be very important if one of your projects was actually targeted."

Jaye took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm operating under the auspices of the Office of Intelligence and Analysis in DHS," she said. "I'm helping set up a program that will...aid in collecting useful information about cyber threats. Cyberterrorism is becoming a bigger problem by the year, and we need to get ahead of the game. Neck and neck isn't good enough. I'm helping get us ahead."

Gibbs smiled a little at the prevarication, even while giving requested information.

"I'm working with US-VISIT," Roger said. "They're trying to get a better system in place for collecting biometric data and refining the watch list for people traveling in and out of the U.S. I'm just one person out of a number of people working on this, but it's still classified. Obviously, if the people who are actually dangerous got wind of the changes, they could take steps to avoid what we're doing next."

Gibbs looked at Sherman.

"Mine is the least classified project. It's mostly classified for privacy concerns. I'm working with the Office to Monitor and Combat Trafficking in Persons. They're trying to find a way to track these...people. I don't have to tell you the kinds of scum they're investigating, but it's classified to protect the victims and to keep the traffickers from see what is going to be done to keep tabs on them."

Gibbs looked at Ziva. Sherman's project seemed least likely to be involved in what had happened.

"Okay. Could you give us more details on what information is on that server for your projects?" Gibbs asked. "What would make it so valuable to get at it?"

As they began to elaborate on what they were doing, Gibbs couldn't help hoping that Tim could tell them what he had found.

Sooner rather than later.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up and it was dark. He looked around for a moment, confused, and then remembered.

"I'm in the hospital."

He knew where he was. He knew that he'd been injured, but there was this blank spot in his memory where the injury probably should be. He didn't know how much time he was missing. He only knew that there must be some. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He felt very uncertain. He felt antsy like there was something really important he _needed_ to remember. He wanted to get out of bed, but he didn't feel like he could.

The feeling was almost overwhelming. He closed his eyes tightly, breathing loudly through his clenched teeth. He wasn't sure why he was panicking, but he was and he didn't know what to do about it.

"Agent McGee, what's wrong?"

He didn't recognize the voice.

"I...can't..._think_! ...can't remember..." he said...and then, for no reason he could articulate, he started to cry.

It took a long time to calm him down.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"Hi, Eric," Roger said. "Have a seat. I know you're in an awkward situation."

Eric nodded. "I didn't want to say anything right after...but I don't have an advisor anymore."

"I understand. We've started drafting a faculty search, but it's awkward. You've been doing the network security stuff. Is that what you want to continue with or would you rather go back to something else and finish?"

Eric smiled at the none-too-subtle hint.

"Actually, that's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

"I've...had a couple of people recruiting me."

"Really? You've never said anything."

"Honestly?" Eric hesitated. "I'm kind of scared about it. They're research companies, not universities. I don't know if it's what I really want. I've always planned on staying in the ivory tower."

"It's not for everyone and you've been in the tower for so long, I'm not surprised you're having trouble thinking about leaving it. What's your plan?"

"I'm thinking that I'll accept, but I do need to finish. I've got a lot material, a lot research. I'm hoping that I can get done in the next year."

"A good goal, Eric. I'm glad to hear it," Roger said. "Who would you like to work with?"

"I was hoping I could work with Jaye. She's a little more focused in the cybersecurity stuff, but she could help with the project I was planning with...with Charles."

Roger nodded sympathetically.

"I'll speak to her about it and see what she says, but I don't see any reason why she'd say no."

"Thanks."

"Why the sudden rush, if you don't mind my asking?"

"After what happened to Tim and Charles...maybe the ivory tower doesn't seem as secure as it used to." Eric shrugged hesitantly. "It's time to move on."

"It might be. You've been here a long time, Eric, and there's nothing wrong with getting a job outside the ivory tower."

"I know. I just didn't really think about the possibility until recently."

"Good luck. If you want any letters of recommendation or if you want them to meet with me, I'm always available. Except for your reluctance to finish up here, you've been an excellent student."

"Thanks."

Eric stood up and shook Roger's hand, sighing with relief as he left the office. That had been more painless than he'd expected.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was early in the morning, but Gibbs wanted to see how Tim was doing before getting to work, and it had been a few days since he'd been able to stop by. With Tim improving as much as Tony had said, maybe Tim would be remembering as well.

He walked to the ICU and saw Sam and Naomi talking quietly in the hall. They looked up as he approached.

"Agent Gibbs," Naomi said. "What brings you here so early?"

Gibbs smiled a little. "Wanted to come before work instead of after...when I'd probably not be able to make it."

Naomi smiled, but she was clearly worried about something.

"What is it?"

"We were talking to the ICU nurse. She said that Tim had some big problems last night. He woke up and started talking about not being able to think. He had a panic attack and couldn't get to sleep for hours. Considering he's been sleeping so much, the fact that he was so worked up that he _couldn't_ sleep..."

Gibbs' heart sank a little. If Tim still wasn't remembering, so much for getting help from him on what had happened.

"Maybe if he talked to you," Sam suggested. "Dr. Marteen says that this kind of anxiety is normal, but Tim is so insistent that there's something important he's not remembering. Maybe you can help him. Maybe you'll know the right questions to ask...or just know what to say to keep him from worrying about it."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. That was a tall order for someone as conscious of his responsibilities as Tim was. Naomi smiled.

"We know that you're not a miracle worker. We just want whatever you can do... but if you can manage one this time...we'd be okay with that."

"Is he awake now?"

"No, but he's not sleeping deeply. He'll wake up if you say anything at all."

Gibbs nodded and went into the ICU. Tim was in bed, as was usual, but Gibbs could see that his sleep was fitful at best. It was interesting, when Tim had been sleeping almost constantly (or in a coma) for the last two weeks, that his _not_ sleeping would be a cause for concern.

"Tim?" he said softly.

Tim's eyes opened quickly and he looked at Gibbs.

"Boss...you're...what time is it?"

"It's morning."

"Shouldn't...you be...working?"

"I've got time. How are you doing?"

Tim just shook his head and looked down at his lap.

"I heard you had a bad night."

"I...can't...there's something...something important...Boss, I can't...!" Tim's frustration was clear. Frustration with how hard it was for him to talk and how hard it was to think.

Gibbs sat down.

"It's okay. We can wait."

"No! ...no, I think...think it's really important...but I don't... I don't even know what happened!"

A full complete sentence, but it had clearly been difficult for Tim to say and he was too upset to appreciate the improvement.

"...they just said that...that...an attack and...and I got...hit or something...but..." Tim looked at him. "...I don't _know_!"

"Do you want to know what we've figured happened?"

"Yes."

"We don't know everything," Gibbs warned. "I can't tell you everything."

"But...I don't know...uh...anything!"

"Okay. Just calm down and listen."

Tim locked his eyes on Gibbs and listened, all his attention on what Gibbs was going to say. They'd been trying to keep the details away from Tim while he was recovering because the last thing he needed was to start thinking about the fact that someone else had been killed, but he was at the point where he'd started freaking out about _not_ knowing.

"Okay. Do you remember telling Tony and Ziva that you'd go out with them the next night after you worked on your program?"

Tim took a breath and stared at the ceiling, worrying.

"Hey, it's fine if you don't," Gibbs said. "I need to know where to start. Tony and Ziva had asked you to go out with them and you told them that you had to do a test run and you would the next night. Do you remember that?"

"...maybe? It doesn't...sound...unfamiliar..." Tim said, with a lot of hesitation.

Gibbs smiled.

"We'll start with that. You promised them that you'd hang out the next night."

"..how...long?" Tim asked.

"A little over two weeks."

Tim nodded slowly but obviously didn't like knowing that so much time had passed.

"You left work and went to campus. You went down to the secure server in the basement and..."

"How...did you know? I never..."

"We've been investigating this, Tim," Gibbs said patiently. "We know quite a bit about what you've been doing."

"Oh...yeah...okay."

"It's all right, Tim."

Tim nodded, looked away and then focused on him again.

"You were down there for a period of time. We don't know how long, and you apparently got a hit. We saw the tracking program when we checked down there a couple of days after the attack. You got a hit on...Charles Ormond's office."

"Charles? Really?"

"His office, anyway. You went up there to his office."

"Why?" Tim asked. "Why...did I–? That's...stupid! I went...alone? I didn't...tell...anyone?"

"No. You didn't...or if you did, the person you told attacked you."

"It...wasn't Charles?"

"Did you think it was?" Gibbs asked. That could be important...but his hopes were dashed.

"You...said I was...went to...his office. He wasn't there?"

Here was the part Gibbs didn't really want to tell, but he had to.

"He was there. He was killed, Tim."

"Did I–?"

"I doubt it."

"But...possible?"

"No," Gibbs said quickly. "No. You didn't kill him. We think you found him dead and whoever killed him attacked you, too. You got hit on the back of the head and we think you fell forward and hit the desk. Your friends Lancer and Arnold found you both in the office. Ormond was dead already and you were still alive. They kept you alive until an ambulance could bring you here. That's what happened."

Tim was quiet, but he didn't seem comforted, either. ...not that it was a big surprise. Tim didn't like not knowing, and he didn't know what had happened.

"Boss..."

"What?"

"Something...can I go back?"

"Back where?"

"Campus."

"You mean now?"

"Yes."

"No!" Gibbs said instantly.

Tim was barely coherent. They had no idea how much danger he might be in. He couldn't get up. He was just starting physical therapy from what Gibbs knew. There wasn't much atrophy, but he was in no state to leave the hospital.

"But...maybe...I can...remember if I go. I...need to...think again."

"You'll remember what you can, Tim, but it won't be all at once."

"You did."

Gibbs smiled. "No, I didn't. I remembered most of it, but not all, and you have something I didn't have."

"What?"

"Memories. What you've lost is maybe a day, Tim. It's okay. We'll figure this out. I promise."

"But...maybe it's..."

"It's not you, Tim. Don't even let yourself _think_ about that as a possibility. It's not...and I'm not just saying that to make you feel better."

Tim actually smiled a little.

"There's no evidence that you were anything but a victim in that office. None."

Tim nodded, but he still looked bothered.

"Tim, look at me. Look me in the eye."

Tim did as he was told.

"I understand that you're frustrated. I understand that you're afraid because you can't remember what happened. I understand all that, but you need to let yourself get better. That's the only way you'll even have a _chance_ of remembering...and you may not remember still. But you need to give yourself time. You can't rush something like this."

Tim nodded again. He looked around the room and then at Gibbs again.

"Why...was I so...so stupid, Boss?"

"You weren't. You just didn't think that you were confronting a killer. You could have taken Charles Ormond if that's all it had been. Easy."

Tim smiled.

"If you had known that it might be dangerous, you would have asked for help. I don't have any doubt about that. There's no way you could have known this would be the result."

"But...still..." Tim looked at himself. All the problems he now faced because of that moment of recklessness. His own shortcomings.

"No, Tim. Don't think like that. You're getting better. Your doctor is ecstatic about how good you're doing. Don't think that you're lacking. You're not."

"...but..."

"No. I can't headslap you right now, but no. What you've got is recovery time you need to take and that's all. If you can't ever remember, it's okay. You don't have to."

Tim was quiet for a few seconds and then he looked at Gibbs. He spoke slowly and carefully.

"What if I do know something very important and I can't remember?"

Gibbs could see how important this was to Tim, but he couldn't tell him the exact truth, i.e. that if it was important enough, it might be that they couldn't solve the case without it, that the case would stall without his memory.

"We'll do without it," he said. He held Tim's gaze and didn't look away.

"Okay."

"I have to go. Relax, Tim. Don't worry about it. We're working on it and we'll figure it out."

Tim nodded and leaned back. His eyes closed. Gibbs wasn't sure that he'd really sleep, but he seemed less agitated than he had been before. He left the ICU.

"How is he?" Naomi asked.

"Maybe better, maybe not. He thinks there's something he knows but he can't remember it. He seemed a little calmer when I left."

"Thank you. He didn't remember talking to you?"

"No, but one thing."

"What?"

"I told him about Ormond being killed. He needed to know everything and it didn't feel right to keep that from him."

Naomi didn't look happy about it, but she nodded.

"Tim might start worrying about that," Sam said. "That's what you're concerned about, isn't it."

"Yeah."

"We'll watch for it. He's doing physical therapy, but Dr. Marteen was suggesting, now that he's talking more coherently, that he might need some other therapy, too. I'll mention that to him."

"Thanks."

"Dr. Marteen says that Tim is stable enough that they'll be moving him out of the ICU, probably today," Naomi said. "We don't know where he'll be settled yet, but when you all come again, know that he probably won't be in there."

"Good."

Naomi nodded. "I agree. The ICU is depressing."

Gibbs smiled and headed to work. He had hoped to get some information from Tim, but he was seeing now that it wasn't going to happen, not until Tim got some memory back...if he could. If Tim did remember something important, Gibbs was certain that he'd hear about it no matter when he remembered.

For now...it was back to work, to see what they could figure out without Tim's help.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was exhausted by the physical therapy, but he woke up during the night, unable to rid himself of the feeling that he was missing something really important. All the encouragement in the world couldn't change that feeling.

He hesitantly started to push himself up to see how far he could go. Now that he was in a regular room instead of the ICU, he didn't have so many eyes on him. He felt alone and that wasn't a bad thing.

...but he didn't make it up very far before he felt his arms shaking. How could two weeks make him weaker than a baby?

Regardless, it was an improvement. He could sit up. Maybe he'd be able to move around soon. He could hope. He hated the idea of being stuck here, unable to help find whoever had killed Charles.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"How much longer will it take?" Tim asked.

"For what?"

Tim managed to push himself upright and looked his physical therapist in the eye.

"Look...I'm still not...thinking right, but I'm not stupid!" he said.

Marc smiled. "I don't think you're stupid, Tim. Not at all, even if you're afraid of that yourself."

"How much longer?"

"For what?" he asked again. "Specifically, Tim, what is it that you're wanting to know?"

"I want to know how long it will take for me to be able to walk without feeling like I'm going to fall over."

"The vertigo might last a little longer than you'd like," Marc said. "But I'd guess that you'd be walking again within the next week. You're doing a lot better with balance and your last scan showed a lot of healing. Really, Tim, you're already on the fast track. You just need to be patient."

"A week?"

"Not to be back to normal, but to be walking, yes. You'll probably still have some dizzy spells and you'll need to be ready for those. How are the headaches?"

Tim shrugged.

"Still there...not...not anything...I..." He sighed in frustration. The words just weren't there as fast as he wanted them to be. "...not anything I can't deal with."

"Good, and one other thing, Tim."

"What?"

"Be patient with your mind, too."

Tim looked down at the mat and let out a loud breath.

"I know you're used to being a lot quicker than you are right now. I know that this is not what you want for yourself, but you _have_ to be patient. Tim, you almost died. At most, from what I understand, five more minutes without treatment and you'd have been dead. You're not. You're not only alive, but you're awake, aware and able to think and move. Tim, you have a blessing so many people don't get. It's going to take time, though. I know you know that, but you don't want to accept it...because it's frustrating."

Tim laughed helplessly.

"I just...I know that there are times when I'm stumbling...over my words...and I know that I shouldn't be."

"Actually, considering the potential damage, you _should_ be. Take it easy on yourself. You have the chance to get everything back. You just need to be patient."

Tim lay back on the mat and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

"A week?"

"You'll be upright on your own."

"Okay. I'll go for that."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Murder weapon, Ducky," Gibbs said.

"I've given you my summation once before."

"Again."

"I'd guess some kind of paperweight," Ducky said, staring at the x rays he had on the walls. "The indentation on Timothy's head is smooth. It's harder to discern a pattern on Ormond's injury because there were more hits. It has the look of panic to it."

"Panic?"

"One solid hit would have been enough if I'm correct about the weapon, but if taken by surprise, he or she may have reacted in panic and hit over and over again just to stop whatever confrontation was happening. In contrast, Timothy's injury is one single stroke, indicating a planned attack...and yet...it's less of an attack than the first. Planned...and yet, not? I'm not sure. However, it does appear both were injured by the same implement."

"We've gone through everything in Ormond's office. Nothing fits what you're describing."

"No one can give you any hints?"

"None so far...but the guilty party wouldn't want to help us out, you know."

"True. So the killer took it with him."

"Looks like it. Abby can't get anything from the video other than that it was manipulated."

"If only we could find a way to confine the pool of suspects."

"Not happening so far."

"What does your gut tell you?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs stared at the x ray of Tim's injury.

"We already know who it is... We just don't know yet."

Ducky smiled.

"There is time. Timothy seemed much improved the last time I saw him."

"He still can't remember, though...and I don't want to remind him too much."

"Are you still worried about the possibility of Timothy taking responsibility for something that wasn't his fault?"

"The certainty of it, yes," Gibbs said grimly. "If we can't find the killer, Tim's going to blame himself."

"It may happen anyway."

"Yeah. I know. We need the whole story, either from Tim or from...whatever we can find."

"I agree. Knowing exactly what happened will help as all the assurances in the world can't."

The unspoken question hung in the air.

_What if we never know?_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Roger, Sherman and Jaye had their first meeting since the attack. They had a hard conversation ahead of them, plus just the regular day-to-day issues.

"I'm more than willing to help Eric get finished," Jaye said. "He needs to move on, and if he thinks I can assist him, I'm ready to do that."

"Good," Roger said. "He's said that there was some recruiting going on, and if someone wants to hire him, then, we should make sure he's as well-placed as possible."

"What about Tim?" Sherman asked. "I know that's really what this meeting is about."

"From the last report I had, he's recovering. It might take a while, but he'll get there."

"And our projects?" Jaye asked. "I don't want to sound callous, but we have work to do and the longer the server has to stay offline, the more behind we're going to get."

"But Tim has put so much of himself into this, into _protecting_ what we're doing," Sherman said. "He deserves the chance to finish it. We can't pass this on to someone else. For one thing, no one else in the department will be able to follow Tim's mindset. I looked at some of the coding and it's so different from what I'd do...but it works. His program is going to be amazing when he finishes. We can't take that away."

"I agree," Roger said. "Let's wait and see what's coming down the line. Maybe I can get a fuller report from his parents...or Tim himself. If we can have some idea of when he'll be recovered enough to get back to work, that would be excellent, but unless they tell me that the damage is permanent and Tim won't be able to do it, I feel, like you do, Sherman, that Tim should be allowed to complete what he started."

"I'm not against that," Jaye said. "I'm just worried. There's so much we're doing."

"I know." Roger took a breath. "I get the feeling that the case has stalled somewhat. Agent DiNozzo asked me again about anything in Charles' office that could have been the murder weapon. He said something about a paperweight this time."

"Oh, you mean like that egg-shaped thing on Charles' desk?" Sherman asked.

"Egg-shaped thing?" Roger asked. "What are you talking about?"

"The last time I argued with him about Tim. He had this thing that looked like a glass egg sitting on his desk. It was about the size of my hand. I thought it was hideous, but I was already arguing with him; so I didn't say anything."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Roger asked.

"I didn't...know that's what they were looking for. They had just been asking about possible weapons. It's a paperweight. I don't really think of them as...weapons."

"Jaye...have you seen it?"

Jaye thought. "Maybe? I don't know for sure. Charles always had tacky knickknacks on his desk, but they were never the same from month to month. I asked him once and he said that he had inherited some things from his grandparents and he didn't have the heart to get rid of them. I guess a paperweight could have been one of them."

"What did it look like, Sherman?"

"Like I said, as big as my hand. Glass. Green and and blue. Ugly. Shaped like an egg."

"Well, I don't know if it will help, but I'll tell the NCIS people about it and they can see if that's among the things they've been searching."

"I'm sorry, Roger. I really didn't even think about it when they were asking before. How to make common office elements into weapons is not something I think about regularly."

"It's all right. I didn't think about it, either."

"I hope it's not too late to do any good."

"If it helps them find the weapon used, I'm sure it will be a good thing."

"I could probably draw it, actually. I still remember it. It was that hideous."

Roger laughed a little. They all were trying not to think about the fact that this was a real murder...and not just a story.

"Do it."

He slid a piece of paper across the table. Sherman took a pen and started to sketch. Many people were surprised that Sherman enjoyed drawing...with a pen or pencil. He kept it private, but it came out occasionally. Now, as he drew what he'd seen, Roger knew it would be more detailed than it would be if another person did the same thing.

A couple of minutes later, he slid the paper back to Roger.

"That's what I saw."

It was a large glass egg, flat on the bottom, swirls of design inside, about as big as Sherman's hand, and Sherman had large hands. If it were solid glass, that would be a heavy object and could easily be used to kill.

"Okay. We need to tell NCIS about this and see what they can do with it." Roger looked at the picture for a moment longer and then moved on. "The full faculty meeting will be in an hour. Tim's work will stand until we know more. All right?"

Sherman and Jaye both nodded.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Can I get regular clothes?" Tim asked.

"Of course, Tim," Sam said. "I'm sure we could get something for you. I don't think you have to be in those sweats all the time."

Naomi smiled, but at the same time, there was something about Tim's question that bothered her.

"Is there any reason why, Tim?" she asked.

"I just...don't like feeling so...much like an invalid," Tim said. "I want to be more myself...as long as I...have to be here."

"Okay. How are the headaches?"

"Still bad, but not too bad. Brighter lights seem to make it worse. I'm going to be having another scan in a couple of days. Dr. Marteen thinks...that I'm...getting a lot closer to being better."

"You're sounding a lot better, Tim," Sam said. "You just need to be patient and..."

"Oh, Dad," Tim said. "I'm so...tired of hearing that."

Sam smiled. "'How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?'"

"Shakespeare," Tim said.

"Exactly."

"Tim, are you still thinking about what you might have forgotten?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah. It's still there...just where I can't...touch it. It's...frustrating."

"No matter what, don't worry. Take it as it comes."

"Don't sweat the small stuff?" Tim asked with a grimace.

"That's a quote you don't need to focus on," Sam said, laughing a little.

"But if it helps," Naomi said.

Tim leaned back in bed and stared at the ceiling. His plan was taking shape. He was having to take it slower than he planned, but maybe that was better. Less suspicion since his mom had already twigged to something being different.

"How's the physical therapy?"

"I'm still dizzy when I stand up, but it's getting better."

"You'll make it, Tim. I know you will," Naomi said.

"All the way," Sam added.

"I hope so."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How are you feeling today, Tim?" Dr. Gray, Tim's psychiatrist, asked.

"All right."

"Any nightmares?"

"I don't know," Tim said with a sigh.

"You don't know?"

"Do they count as nightmares if nothing is happening?" Tim asked.

"Nightmares have to do with dreams that cause fear or other negative emotions. If that's what you're feeling, then it's a nightmare."

"Nothing is happening, though."

"Tell me."

"It's dark," Tim said. "Really dark. I can't...see anything. ...but someone is there...but I can't see them. I can't figure out even where I am. It's...scary and...frustrating and...and I keep dreaming it."

"Are you still bothered by not remembering?"

"Yes!" Tim said, irritably. "Is that a surprise?"

"No, it's not, but I think you don't need to worry about it. If you're going to remember, it'll happen, probably without any help from anyone. Memories like this, if they managed to be saved in your brain, they'll come out when you least expect it. One day, you'll just remember. But if it didn't get saved, there's nothing you can do to bring it back. It just won't happen. And that happens with brain injury, Tim. It's common for the events right around the injury to be lost."

"But why do I feel like I'm not...remembering something important?"

"Because you're an investigator and you know everything that could have gone into what happened to you."

"And because I was an idiot. I went...without..." Tim sat up. "I went without thinking...it could be dangerous!"

"There's nothing wrong with that. Why should you have expected danger?"

"Because...I'm an investigator!" Tim said, repeating Dr. Gray's words.

"You could still remember, Tim, but you may not. Accept that and you'll be better off."

Tim sighed.

"I'm tired."

"All right. Are the nightmares keeping you from sleeping?"

"Not really. I wake up and go back to sleep. I'm still sleeping a lot."

"Good. If they do become a problem, let me know."

"I will."

Tim watched Dr. Gray leave and he leaned back. Everyone kept telling him to relax, to be patient, not to worry. It was impossible. As long as he knew there was something he couldn't remember, he wouldn't be able to. As soon as he felt able, he would do something about it.

Hopefully, sooner rather than later.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Tim had his street clothes, including his wallet, as he'd hoped. Now, he was ready to see just how well he'd manage getting around. If he was going to collapse after taking ten steps, it wasn't worth trying.

Carefully, he stood up, ignoring the slight dizziness as he walked toward the door. As Marc had promised, he was walking, albeit with some hesitation. He ran out of energy very quickly, but if he could walk, he could manage. He got to the door and stepped out into the hall.

...and stopped in surprise.

"Agent Saunders...what are you...doing here?" he asked.

Adam Saunders, the newest MCRT agent, smiled at him.

"It's my turn for guard duty, Agent McGee."

"Who are you guarding?"

Adam's expression turned quizzical.

"You, last I checked."

"Me? Why?"

"Because we don't know who was the target, you or Ormond. ...and even if we do, you're a witness."

"But...I don't remember."

"The killer may not know that, and until we're sure, you're under guard."

"How long?"

"Almost since you came here. ...uh...didn't anyone tell you?"

"No," Tim said. "No one mentioned it."

"Oh. I hope it wasn't supposed to be a secret. Didn't you notice anyone when you left your room?"

Tim shook his head slowly. He wasn't sure if he should be irritated about being under guard without being told or if he should be annoyed that it would be nearly impossible to get out of the hospital with someone trying to keep him safe.

"Anything you need, Agent McGee?"

"Uh...no. Thanks."

Tim went back into his room and sat down on the bed. He sat there for a while. They didn't know if he was the target or Charles. At this point, it seemed impossible that the killer would not realize that Tim couldn't remember anything. If he had remembered what happened, the killer would be arrested, right? And if he had gone up to Charles' office, it made a lot more sense for it to be about Charles than about Tim. ...and Tim hoped that it wasn't about him because that would mean that Charles' death was on his head. He didn't like the idea that it could be his fault for stupidly running up to Charles' office.

_If only I can remember what I was thinking, what I saw._

He had to modify his plan, but he'd figure it out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Eric," Bao Li said. "I heard you might be finishing soon!"

"I don't know if the department could survive without you here," Bob added with a grin. "Will any of the faculty know what to do?"

Eric laughed.

"Where did you hear that?"

"It's been going around," Arnold said. "Ever since the last faculty meeting. Is it true?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Eric asked with a smile.

"Are you kidding?" Lancer said. "Who else knows all the ins and outs of the department? I'll bet you know things about this place that no one else knows."

"That's going a little far."

"I doubt it," David said. "I always thought they should just make you a default faculty because you know as much or more than anyone else about how to function here."

"Well, thank you. Hey...where's Lancer?"

"He's still having trouble with what happened," Arnold said. "I think it would be easier if he could see that Tim was okay, but no one is allowed in to see him except his family and the NCIS people."

"How do you know that?" Eric asked.

"We tried to go and visit last week," Arnold said. "He had a _guard_!"

"Wow. Tim must be really important," Bao Li said. "Did the guard tell you anything?"

"She said that Tim was getting better, but that it was going to take time. That was all. Do you think we're all suspects?" Arnold asked.

"I guess we'd have to be," David said. "If we were in the building..."

"Yeah, I guess. Do you think Tim will want to come back here after? I mean...wouldn't it be hard to deal with what happened here?"

"Tim's stronger than that," Pradnya said. "As soon as he can, he'll be back. Do you think he saw who killed Charles and that's why they're guarding him?"

"If he did, wouldn't they have arrested someone already?" Eric asked.

"...unless he forgot," Bob said. "People with head injuries can get a kind of amnesia where they forget what happened around the time that they were injured. I got a concussion once when I was playing football in high school. I still don't remember actually getting hit."

"If he doesn't remember, though..."

"Maybe he will later. Not everyone forgets."

"On another topic, have any of you had your finals postponed?" Bao Li asked. "Sherman said the final would be next week instead of this week."

"Jaye postponed the finals for Charles' classes, but Roger didn't."

They started comparing schedules and the conversation moved on to other topics.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"...and so, we're kind of at a standstill," Abby finished. "We have a lot of information, just not what we need."

"The paperweight your professor described hasn't shown up at all," Tony added. "We figure he's telling the truth, but it wasn't in the office or at Ormond's house."

Tim nodded and thought about it for a few minutes.

"I am sorry that we have no good news for you about the case," Ziva said into the silence.

"Oh...it's not that." Tim looked at them and was simultaneously relieved that they were being so patient and strangely-annoyed that they weren't pointing out the fact that he was still thinking too slowly.

"Then, what is it?" Jimmy asked. "Is it Professor Ormond?"

"No." Tim shook his head, although that did bother him. He just didn't want to talk about it.

"I wish you had told us it was him who was giving you all that grief," Tony said.

"He didn't deserve to die, Tony!" Tim said with more heat than he'd planned.

"Hey, I didn't say he did!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Tim said and let out a loud exhalation.

There was an awkward silence.

"Was there something else, Tim?" Abby asked.

"Have you looked at the other security cameras on campus?" Tim asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if this is...stupid or not, but...you seem pretty sure that it was someone in the department who did this."

"It's what makes the most sense, although we can't rule anything out really at this point," Tony said.

Tim spoke slowly, making sure he got everything out as he meant it. "Well...if the cameras at the...the computer science building were tampered with...maybe whoever did it fiddled with the other cameras on campus to hide himself from being seen somewhere he said he wasn't. Does that make sense?"

"That makes a _lot_ of sense, Probie," Tony said. "See? That's why we need you back! We've been so focused on what we've got that we've forgotten to look around!"

"You don't have to patronize me, Tony," Tim said. "I know I'm still not back to normal."

"He's not!" Abby said. "It _is_ a good idea and I'm going to bug Gibbs about it today. Definitely."

"Today?" Tim repeated. "It's nine in the evening, Abby."

"Okay...first thing tomorrow morning!"

Tim smiled.

"Are you sure you're not just being nice to me? It's okay if it's not...a good idea," he said.

"We are not just being nice," Ziva said. "You are still smart, Tim. That has not changed and you have good ideas...as this one is."

"Okay." Tim smiled again but then remembered that he had a guard in the hallway and his smile faded.

"What is it?" Abby asked.

"It's okay if you still can't remember. We'll figure it out," Tony said.

"No, it's not that. Why do I have a guard out in the hall? Why is there someone watching me? ...and why didn't...anyone tell _me_ about it?"

They all looked genuinely surprised.

"We weren't trying to keep it from you, Tim," Abby said. "Really."

"Then, why not tell me?"

"Because it didn't come up," Tony said. "You've only been really connected for a couple of weeks, Tim."

"You don't have to remind me," Tim muttered.

"But we just didn't think of it. It's normal for us now. There's always someone out there...until we know for sure that you're safe."

"But it seems silly to think that someone would be coming after me...now. Wouldn't they have...tried? And I don't...remember! If I was remembering something...important...I would have told you already!"

"We can't make that assumption," Abby said. "We don't _want_ to. What if we're wrong?"

"We'd never forgive ourselves and you know it," Jimmy said. "No one wants to risk being wrong about that."

"Yeah...do _you_?" Tony asked.

"Guess not."

"Why were you so upset about it?" Ziva asked.

"It was...just a surprise. It felt like you were...keeping...secrets from me. Thinking that I couldn't...get it or something because I'm..."

Abby leaned over and hugged Tim tightly.

"No, Tim! We weren't. It really was just...we didn't think about it. I'm sorry!"

Tim tried to let go of the irritation which had taken him by surprise. He didn't want to be angry at his friends, but he couldn't help it. It was like he had this thread inside him that kept pulling him toward anger. He suppressed it, though. They wouldn't leave him alone if they were too worried about him.

They left about ten minutes later when Tim claimed that he was tired. They left and Tim stared at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to get out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next morning, true to her word, Abby accosted Gibbs and got him to request the security video from the other buildings on campus, particularly the places that the people who had been in the building claimed to be. Then, as soon as she got it, she threw herself into going through all the video, searching for the same manipulation she had found before. It was all she wanted to work on, but of course, it couldn't be. There were other things she had to do. Still, she persevered.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a crashing sound that startled Tim out of his contemplation of the ceiling. He got up and carefully walked to the door. Agent Saunders was down the hall where a gurney looked like it had been knocked over. Someone was lying on the floor. A nurse was calling for a doctor.

Tim suddenly realized that there was no one watching him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Adam Saunders walked back to Tim's room. A badly-placed ceiling leak had left a puddle on the floor and there had been the worst possible result. A patient being transferred to another room had been knocked to the floor. He figured that Tim had likely heard all the noise even if he hadn't come out. He didn't want to leave Tim with the impression that he couldn't speak to anyone if he wanted to.

"Hey, Agent McGee, there was a bit of an accident down the hall and..."

He stopped and looked around.

"Oh, no."

He looked in the bathroom.

No. The room was definitely empty.

"Oh, no."

Then, he saw the note on the bed. He looked at it.

"Oh, no."

He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly.

"Agent Gibbs, you're going to kill me."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Gibbs struggled to keep himself from becoming furious. He could hear how worried Adam was and, since Adam was the one at the hospital, Gibbs needed him to do some checking before they ran around like headless chickens.

"What does the note say, Agent Saunders?"

"_Just that he'll be back."_

"What does it say?"

"'_I'll be back. Don't worry.'"_

"That's it?"

"_That's it. Agent Gibbs, I'm so sorry. They needed help down the hall and..."_

"Agent Saunders, I need you to go and get a look at the video for the last half hour," Gibbs said. "We need to find out whether Agent McGee was on his own or under duress."

"_Right. Okay."_

"Call me back when you know and you'd better not take very long."

"_No, sir."_

Gibbs hung up and looked at Abby.

"What is it, Gibbs?"

"McGee is missing. Right now, it looks like he left on his own."

"Where would he go? Here?"

"Don't know. Yet. Agent Saunders is going to check."

"Where was _he_?" Abby asked angrily.

"Helping a patient down the hall."

"Why aren't you running to find him?"

"Because Agent Saunders is going to find out if McGee left on his own. If he did, then, I can guess where he went. If he didn't, then we have find him. Now...while we're waiting."

"But Gibbs!"

"Now, Abbs."

"Okay. I've been going through all the cameras. So far, none of them have shown any problems. I've got the library camera running now. It should be done soon." Abby paused. "What if Tim's in real trouble?"

"We won't know where to go until Agent Saunders calls."

"Why would Tim leave?"

Gibbs didn't bother answering, but he thought he knew why...at least, in part. Tim wanted to remember, to get that piece he'd lost, probably as a way of asserting that he was himself again, that he wasn't damaged goods. As long as that's what had motivated his disappearance, they could deal with that. As long as that was all it was.

He hoped that was all it was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, are you sure you should be _leaving_ the hospital, sir? If you don't mind my saying so, you look like you should be checking in, not checking out."

Tim smiled at the taxi driver.

"I'm only leaving for a little while. I'll be back later."

"You sure it's a good idea?"

"Positive."

"All right. Your life. Just don't die on the way. Where to?"

"I won't," Tim said with a smile. "George Washington University."

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He was already feeling tired out and a little dizzy, but he would see this through. If nothing came of it, well, then, he'd have to admit that the memory was gone, but until he tried, he felt as though he wasn't doing enough...because he wasn't doing anything. He couldn't live with that, not when the responsibility for Charles' murder was unknown.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Here we go," Abby said, the worry obvious in her voice.

"Well?"

"he library cameras were tampered with...same time frame. Who was supposed to be there?"

Gibbs looked at Abby and then pulled out his phone and called Agent Saunders. He walked out, ignoring Abby's demands for information.

"Agent Saunders, you had better have information for me," he said.

"_Agent Gibbs...I was just about to call."_

"You'd better have something."

"_I do. Agent McGee left on his own. The cameras out front show him getting into a taxi about twenty minutes ago."_

"Company?"

"_DC Cab."_

Gibbs didn't really need to ask for more information. He knew where Tim had more than likely gone...and with Abby's results...

"Call them and find out where they dropped him off...but I think I know already."

"_Sir?"_

"Agent Saunders, I need you to do your job and worry about the rest of it when we know that Agent McGee is safe. Clear?"

"_Clear."_

Gibbs disconnected and then called Tony and Ziva, directing them to go to the Computer Science department as soon as possible.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you going to make it in there?"

Tim smiled at the taxi driver.

"I'll make it."

"You want me to wait and then take you back?"

"No. I don't know how long it will take me. Thanks, though."

He paid for the ride and then got out of the taxi. He had to stop and balance himself against the taxi for a moment before he headed inside. By the time he got into the building, he was exhausted and dizzy. He found a bench and sat down to catch his breath and regain his equilibrium.

"Tim? What are you doing here?"

Tim opened his eyes.

"Hey, Eric. Long time, no see."

"Are you supposed to be out of the hospital? You look terrible."

"Thanks," Tim said. "No, I'm not."

"Then...what are you doing here?"

"Trying to remember."

"Remember what?"

Tim sat up and winced as his head started throbbing.

"I need to remember what happened on that night. I was there. I must have seen something, someone. ...but I just don't know what I saw."

"Do you need to do it right now?"

"Maybe not, but I feel like I've been sitting around too much, not doing anything at all. I have to do my part."

"You could wait, though," Eric said. "I mean, it's waited this long. It could wait until you get better. Really, Tim, you don't look good at all."

"I'll make it."

Eric sighed, sounding resigned.

"Then...I'll help you where you're going."

"You don't need to. I'm slow, but I'll make it."

"You'll be faster with someone to lean on, you know. Come on."

Tim had to admit that it made a lot of sense. He nodded and let Eric help him up.

"Where are you going?" Eric asked.

"Down to the secure server. That's where I was first. I want to recreate it if I can."

"Okay. I still think this is a bad idea, but I'll help you down there."

Tim leaned on Eric and they walked down to the basement.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Boss, why are you in such a hurry?"_ Tony asked.

"Because Abby found that the library cameras had been tampered with."

"_The library? Wait...didn't Eric Rousseau say he'd been at the library?"_

"Exactly."

"_He's the one most likely to be there at this time of the day, right?"_

"Right."

"_And you think McGee went to the campus."_ It wasn't a question.

"He wants to remember."

Tony sighed. _"I understand why, but man...could he be any more thoughtless?"_

"Probably, he could."

"_I guess. Did he think that we had someone guarding him for no reason?"_

"Probably didn't care."

"_I picked up Ziva and we're on our way. We'll meet you there."_

"Good."

Gibbs hung up. He felt rather grim. If Tim ran into Eric and Eric _was_ the killer, the worst possible situation could come to pass.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stopped at the door to the server. He looked at Eric who smiled.

"Hey, I'll stay out here if you want me to."

"Thanks."

Tim put in the code for the door and went inside. He stared at the server which was offline. He stared at the space, trying to bring to the fore everything that had happened that night. He had apparently got a result.

"But I wasn't really thinking I'd get one," Tim mumbled to himself. "I wasn't thinking that it was even possible. ...but I did get a hit. Gibbs said so."

He was starting to feel really dizzy again. He sat down on a chair and stared at the server with his head spinning more than a little bit.

"So I left. Like an idiot, I left without telling anyone and I went upstairs. I went up to Charles' office. So that must have been what I found. ...but is that what I really saw?"

There was nothing to tell him. Maybe he should go upstairs. The attack hadn't happened down here. The most important event had been in Charles' office. He forced himself to his feet again, wishing that he didn't feel so wiped out already, and walked back to where Eric was waiting for him.

"I need to go upstairs."

"Tim, you're really not looking very good. It can wait, can't it?"

"No...but I'll make it on my own, Eric. You don't have to help."

"No. I'll help you up if you're going to keep on being stupid like this."

Tim leaned on Eric gladly.

"Thanks. Really."

They took the elevator up and then walked to Charles' office.

"Tim, really, can't it wait? Your friends are still investigating and they'll find _something_, won't they?"

"Maybe they won't. Sometimes, we need an eyewitness," Tim said wearily. "I'm an eyewitness...only I can't remember."

"You could wait until later, though. What good is it going to do you to keep at this until you pass out?"

Tim smiled. "I'm not going to pass out. I might fall over, but I'll stay conscious."

Eric sighed, and Tim laughed a little. He opened the door to Charles' office and stepped inside.

"I came in here...but I didn't see...Charles at the computer." Tim could almost feel the memory of that moment. He was so close to it now. He could almost see that night. He felt dizzy again and leaned against the doorjamb.

"Tim, maybe you should stop."

Tim barely heard him.

"There was no one at the computer when I came in."

"Tim...really...just stop."

"On the floor...Charles was on the floor," Tim said.

"Tim..."

"But...there was someone else in the office."

The memory was so fuzzy and Tim himself felt extremely fuzzy, too. Another headache struck him and he closed his eyes, wincing at the pain of it. He stumbled forward into the office, leaning against the desk for support.

"Who was it?" Tim asked himself. "Who was there?"

He opened his eyes and caught a flicker of movement to the side of him.

"What–?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They all pulled up in front of the computer science building and ran inside.

"Where will he be?" Tony asked. "In the basement? With the program?"

Gibbs considered and then shook his head.

"No. He wants to remember what happened in the office. Not down there."

The three of them ran up the stairs to the main part of the department, hoping that nothing would happen, that they'd find Tim there and they could get mad at him and drag him back to the hospital. That's what they hoped, but they were afraid that they'd find Tim dead this time, that the killer would have got to him first.

They slowed down as they got to the hall with the faculty offices. Gibbs put up his hand. The door to Charles' office was open.

As they carefully approached...

"What's going on?"

The voice made them all turn, guns at the ready. Lancer's eyes opened as wide as dinner plates and he put his hands in the air. Ziva sighed in minor irritation.

"Quiet," she said tersely.

To his credit, Lancer nodded and stopped moving. He didn't try to follow them. They approached the open door quietly.

"No, Tim. Really. You don't understand!"

"You... It was you I saw, Eric! It must have...been you who...hit me. Why?"

Gibbs groaned inwardly. It was the worst possible outcome. Tim had remembered, but in the company of the one person who would _not_ want him to remember.

They couldn't wait to see if Tim, whose voice sounded shaky at best, could diffuse a situation that looked ready to explode. He looked back at Tony and Ziva. They nodded grimly.

Gibbs took point and moved to the doorway. Tony and Ziva took up flanking positions on either side.

"Eric Rousseau, this is NCIS. Come out with your hands above your head!"

There was a moment of silence and then a string of swearing.

"It's too late for that, Agent Gibbs. Way too late. Can't go back."

"You can't, but you don't have to make it any worse."

There was an almost-hysterical laugh.

"How much worse can it get than this?"

"A _lot_ worse," Gibbs said. "And it doesn't have to."

"Yeah, right. You must know everything already. Why else would you be here right now? You know that I killed Charles. You know that I was the one hacking the system. Do you know how much they were paying me, too?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged surprised glances. _They_? Who was _they_?

"I don't have a gun, Agent Gibbs. You probably could guess that, but I wouldn't come in here. You might get Tim hurt."

"Eric..."

"I told you to stop, Tim. I told you to wait."

"Eric..."

Tim was _not_ sounding good at the moment.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash from inside the office.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

It took all of a second for Gibbs to make eye contact with Tony and Ziva and then to move into the office. It looked much the same as it had when they had come before. The desk, the bookshelves.

The bloodstains on the floor.

Gibbs had to remind himself that this wasn't a repeat of the initial event. Actually, the office looked completely empty. They didn't see anyone at first...but since there was only one door and the window was still closed, Eric and Tim had to be in here still.

"Eric, hands in the air," Gibbs ordered, hoping for a response.

"I didn't do anything to him!" Eric said loudly. "He fell all on his own!"

"Stand up and hands in the air!" Gibbs ordered again.

There was no sound from Tim. If he was alive, he was out of it or being restrained.

"I won't ask again, Eric," Gibbs said.

There was a pause and then, Eric's hands appeared from behind the desk. A large greenish paperweight was in his right hand. That was all they could see.

"Put the paperweight down," Gibbs said.

It wasn't a gun, but Tim was currently at his mercy, no matter what he had and if Eric took it into his head, he could probably kill Tim before they could stop him.

"Stand up," Gibbs said again.

Eric stood up.

"Put down the paperweight."

Eric was twitchy, nervous. He kept looking down at the floor, where Tim must be.

"I didn't hit him. He just fell!"

"Not this time?" Gibbs asked.

"Not this time," he echoed.

"Put down the paperweight," Gibbs said.

Eric didn't move.

"This isn't a game. I'm not holding a toy. If you don't do as I say in the next ten seconds, I _will _shoot you. Put it down."

There was a moment when Eric seemed frozen in place. Gibbs didn't break eye contact, but he was afraid that he'd have to carry through with someone who looked more than a little wigged out. ...and then, the impasse was broken and Eric dropped the paperweight onto the desk with a loud clunk. He backed away from the desk until he bumped into the shelves, his hands still in the air.

Gibbs kept his eye (and gun) trained on Eric, but he gestured for Tony and Ziva to move in.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Tim passed out," Eric said. "He tried to sit down, but he passed out too fast and fell. I didn't hit him! I didn't want to. ...not this time or before."

Gibbs walked forward far enough to see around the desk. Tony and Ziva were both on their knees, carefully untangling Tim from the office chair he'd taken out when he fell. He was definitely out of it. His face was very pale and it looked like he had genuinely passed out. Gibbs wasn't surprised, but it made him wish that he could swat Tim very firmly upside the head. The head injury made that a bad idea, unfortunately. How could Tim have taken the risk he had? Why was it so important that he do this right now? And why hadn't he mentioned his desire to anyone? Yes, he had asked Gibbs once, but that had been when he couldn't even get out of bed. Of course the answer would have to be no.

But it was beside the point right now. At this point, they had to deal with taking Eric into custody.

He refocused on the task at hand.

"Tony."

Tony looked up and nodded. He stood and provided cover while Gibbs approached. Gibbs turned Eric around, searched him and then put on the cuffs.

"Eric Rousseau, you're under arrest for the murder of Charles Ormond and the attempted murder of Agent Tim McGee. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

Eric said nothing. His expression was almost bewildered.

"Do you understand your rights?"

"Yes. Yes, I understand." He laughed. "I told Tim to stop. I told him it could wait. I tried to keep him from remembering. I didn't want him to remember."

"I'm sure you didn't," Gibbs said grimly. "Let's go."

"Gibbs, what about Tim?"

Gibbs looked at Ziva who was still kneeling beside Tim on the floor. She plainly had something in mind. He raised an eyebrow.

"Lancer is here. He could help until you are finished with _him_," she said glaring at Eric.

"Okay."

Tony nodded in understanding. As they took Eric out of the office, Gibbs gestured.

Lancer was standing in about the same place he had been before, looking lost. He didn't know what to do to react to the situation.

"Hey, Lancer," Tony said. "Can you go back to Ormond's office? Agent David could use some help with Tim."

"What happened to Tim?"

"Ah, he just overdid it. He'll be all right, we think. Ziva's just a little bit smaller than he is and if we need to get him up, she could use the help."

He seemed reluctant. Based on what Tony and Ziva had told him, Gibbs wasn't surprised. He'd had enough trouble with the decision he'd had to make to save Tim that he probably didn't want to confront the crime scene again.

...but Lancer nodded. He didn't look at Eric and Eric kept his head down. Both seemed more than willing to ignore the current changed reality of Eric as a killer. It wouldn't go away, but the two of them weren't ready for it yet.

Gibbs continued to lead Eric down to the front, relieved beyond measure that they hadn't been too late.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva looked up and smiled at Lancer as he stood frozen in the doorway. Tim mumbled something incomprehensible.

"He simply passed out, Lancer," she said. "Come over."

Lancer walked forward reluctantly and knelt down.

Tim started making noise that indicated he was coming back to consciousness. He twitched a couple of times and then his eyes fluttered open.

"Tim, can you hear me?" Ziva asked.

She gestured to Lancer.

"Hey, Tim. You all right?" he asked awkwardly.

Tim's eyes opened more and he appeared to be seeing what was around him.

"Where–?"

"You're in Charles Ormond's office," Ziva said. "And you will be lucky to avoid a head slap from Gibbs once you are better."

Tim squinted at her in confusion and then suddenly gasped and tried to sit up. Lancer instantly moved to help him.

"Eric! It was...Eric and...and..." Tim tracked in on the fact that there was someone besides Ziva there. "Lancer...what are you doing here?"

"Helping?" Lancer said. "I hope."

Tim looked at him and then at Ziva again. He was obviously confused, and Ziva hoped it was just because of overexertion rather than any new damage. They had no way of knowing how hard he had hit the floor.

"I was...but..." Tim closed his eyes and sagged a little but then, he tried to sit up again. "Eric. He was in here when...after...I came to see. Where is he now?"

"He did not get away, McGee."

"They arrested him, Tim. I saw them take him out in handcuffs."

Tim's eyes moved from Ziva to Lancer.

"Arrested?"

"Yes."

"But...how?"

"You passed out, Tim. You were not conscious see what happened."

"I did?"

"Yes. You seem to be all right, but you should not have come here. You could have been killed."

That statement seemed to make no impact on Tim at all.

"I had to know. I had to...remember...what I saw. I saw Eric. Charles was on the floor. I turned. I saw...Eric. Then..."

"What?"

"Darkness," Tim said softly. "And then...waking."

"Are you ready to get up?" Ziva asked.

Tim looked at her. He still didn't seem entirely connected. He moved his head around a couple of times, winced and then shook his head.

"No. I...I think I'll stay...down here for a while..."

Tim closed his eyes and fell back to the floor, breathing heavily.

"Lancer, could you stay here with him for a couple of minutes?"

Lancer nodded, still looking uncomfortable.

"Thank you."

Ziva got to her feet, carefully took the paperweight off the desk, and left the office, hoping that Lancer would accept this chance to gain some of the ground he'd lost.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Lancer looked at Tim. He didn't like seeing Tim on the floor like this. At least he wasn't bleeding this time.

"Tim?"

Tim's eyes opened again.

"Lancer...still here?"

"Your team left me in here by myself. I'm not leaving you unconscious on the floor."

Tim smiled.

"I feel terrible," he said.

"You look pretty bad...but nowhere _near_ as bad as you did on that night."

"How...do you know?"

"I was here, Tim," Lancer said. "Arnold and I were going to ask Charles a question. We came in and saw you...and him."

Tim actually seemed to hear him. He looked at Lancer.

"Then...you saved my life."

Lancer shrugged. Yes, he probably had, but it wasn't really in his nature to talk about that kind of thing. It felt weird.

Tim started trying to sit up.

"You should probably stay down, Tim."

Tim shook his head and kept at it until Lancer helped him get propped up against the outside wall.

"No, you saved my life. They told me...told me that...that I would have died if I had been left there...much longer than I was. You saved me."

Tim's head was tilted a bit more than was natural, but he was trying to stay conscious, Lancer could see.

"Thank you, Lancer," Tim said softly. "I don't...I know that...I'm not back to my old...self yet, but...they say that I can be. Thanks to you."

"You're welcome," Lancer said, surprised by how much better he felt just by seeing Tim aware...even like this.

The door to the office opened rather abruptly. Lancer turned quickly to confront whomever it was...but it was Gibbs.

"Tim?" he asked.

Tim had been drifting off again, but he opened his eyes.

"Boss."

"Ready to go back now?" he asked mildly.

Tim nodded and his eyes drifted shut again.

"Tony and Ziva are taking Eric back to NCIS. You and I are going back to the hospital."

"Okay," Tim mumbled.

"Lancer, you can help me get Tim upright."

Lancer nodded, noticing that it wasn't a requested. It was a statement. They both took a side and lifted. Tim roused enough to get his feet under him, but he leaned heavily against Gibbs.

"I remembered...Boss...kind of," Tim said.

"What did you remember?" Gibbs asked.

"Eric."

Gibbs gestured and Lancer helped support Tim out of the office. Then, Gibbs temporarily transferred Tim to Lancer while he locked the door to the office once again.

"I wanted to remember," Tim said again.

Gibbs said nothing. He took over holding Tim up again and they headed out to the front of the building. He helped Tim into the front seat of the car, belted him in and reclined the seat. Then, he turned to Lancer.

"Thanks for your help."

"I didn't do much, Agent Gibbs," Lancer said. "I was just...kind of here."

"Why were you?"

"Because I was trying to get back to reality," Lancer said with a bit of a smile. "I've been...talking to that shrink Agent David told me about. He said that I should go back and look at the place that was bothering me. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get in, but I figured, if it was still locked, I could at least walk to the office. I haven't really been back there since...you know. I wanted to try and let it go."

"Is it working?"

"I don't know. How can you get used to it, Agent Gibbs? You have to see those things all the time, right?"

"Sometimes, we do."

"How do you get used to it? It's...a dead person. It's not just a story. It's real. How does it not...bother you?"

"Lots of practice," Gibbs said with a smile. "And you know what? You never get completely used to it. And you don't want to, either."

"I just...seeing Tim awake was...nice. Charles is dead, but none of us seeing Tim. It was almost like he was dead, too. Will he be okay?"

"It'll take some time."

"Yeah. ...but will he come back here?"

Gibbs smiled again. "He couldn't even stay away for a month. He'll be back."

Lancer smiled back. "This has been weird, Agent Gibbs. We don't know how to deal with people being killed. ...we want things to be normal again...as much as is possible."

"It'll take time, but you'll get there."

"Thanks."

Gibbs put out his hand and Lancer shook it. Then, he watched as Gibbs got in the car and drove away. Only when they had gone did he realize the significance of what he'd witnessed. Eric had been arrested. That meant that Eric, the most helpful grad student in the department, the one who was always willing to share what he knew...he had attacked Tim, had killed Charles.

The world was suddenly insane. Lancer took a deep breath and tried to adjust his mind to what he had learned.

Then, he went to the library and hid himself in research for a while. It was easier than dealing with the implications right now.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim?"

Tim's eyes opened and stared at the roof of the car.

"That was really stupid."

"Had to."

"Why?"

"I needed to remember."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"You said no."

"You asked when you couldn't even walk, Tim. What did you expect?"

"I needed to remember."

"Why was it so important?"

"Because it was important. It mattered. I forgot it." Tim closed his eyes again and there was a long silence. "What if what happened was my fault?"

"It wasn't. Someone else killed Ormond. We knew that already."

"Still could have been my fault," Tim murmured.

"No."

"If it was about...me...if...if I had...if the killer was looking for me."

"It still wouldn't have been your fault. Tim, you can't think like that."

Another silence.

"Too stupid to...to think any other way."

"What do you mean?"

Tim just sighed and sank into the seat further.

"Tim."

"I want to be me...again...not...not so slow."

"This didn't help."

Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw Tim smile a little.

"That's what you...think."

"You passed out because you couldn't do what you were trying to do."

"I remembered," Tim said softly but firmly. "I remembered."

That was all that mattered, Gibbs could see. Right now, Tim wasn't going to care about anything else. Maybe he wouldn't even when he recovered from this idiocy.

...and beneath his irritation, Gibbs could acknowledge his devout relief that Tim hadn't been killed because of his need to remember.

That mattered.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

When they got back to the hospital, Gibbs got a wheelchair for Tim and took him back to his room, much to the relief of the hospital staff. He roused Tim enough to get him into bed. Dr. Marteen was on hand to examine him.

"Agent McGee, that was extremely foolish. Your body hasn't recovered enough for that kind of exertion."

"No exertion."

"Yes, there was. Even if all you did was sit around, you are still exerting yourself and you just aren't ready for that yet. The fact that you lost consciousness should tell you that much."

"Had to remember."

"Not like this, Tim. Your memory of that night could have been pursued, but this could have been damaging to your well-being. You're lucky it wasn't."

Tim just sighed and closed his eyes. Dr. Marteen met Gibbs' gaze and shrugged. There was no getting through to Tim right now. He finished his examination, and Tim was asleep before he could say a word.

"Is he all right?"

"He will be, but he could have pushed himself too far. He almost did. Overexertion can lead to a complete physical breakdown. In severe cases, it has led to heart attacks, even death."

"McGee can get obsessed with things, but he's not usually stupid about it."

"His mind is still recovering. Right now, he just doesn't see that there was an issue with walking out, even if he knew that he would be stopped."

"Will that change?" Gibbs asked. That was a serious problem if Tim couldn't grasp that kind of problem.

"I think so. It's only been a few weeks since his injury, remember. With his dramatic recovery thus far, it can be discouraging when he's slowing down a bit, but the brain is a funny thing. We're still figuring it out, and it takes time for complete recovery. In a few days, he may not even be able to tell you why he thought what he did was okay. It could take weeks. In a worst-case scenario, he might never understand. But I really think that he'll make it all the way. There might be a few changes, and I think he'll need therapy for a while, but I see no reason that your agent won't be able to return to his life...eventually."

"How long?"

"That I can't say, not with any certainty. I'd estimate a few months before he's ready to go back to living on his own again. He'll need more rehab to help with his physical challenges, and his brain needs more time to heal."

"What about this stunt he pulled tonight?"

"It might put him behind schedule a little bit. He'll definitely be recovering from it for the next few days. If I'm right, he'll probably sleep for the next day."

"Why would a head injury lead to this kind of thing? He's been slow, but he seemed coherent enough."

"It's less about the head injury as it is about the coma afterwards. But a head injury can jumble up the body's ability to react correctly. The brain governs movement by sending signals to the rest of the body. When the brain is injured, its ability to send those signals can be destroyed or simply delayed. As the brain heals, the signals move along normally again."

Gibbs looked at his agent. He was asleep. He was pale, and the EKG was still showing a heart rate that was slightly elevated. He just couldn't understand why all this was happening.

"I was caught in an explosion a few years ago. I was in a coma for a couple of days and when I woke up, I had amnesia, but that cleared up, and physically, I wasn't hurt that bad."

"And you think your agent should be like you?"

Gibbs grimaced.

"When you put it like that..."

"Your experience, whatever it was, is not the same. No brain injury is going to be exactly the same and there's no way of knowing the results just by looking at the situation in those broad strokes. It depends on where the injury occurred, how deep the injury was. Did it include skull fractures as well as brain damage? Was there infection? How long was medical aid delayed? In the case of your agent, his injury would have been fatal if he hadn't received help within minutes of when he did. He was almost at the point of no return and was pulled back from that. The damage to his brain kept him in a coma for days. Some of the damage was in the areas dealing with balance. It's going to take time for him to get to the point where the balance will be reset to how it was. From what you say, it sounds like you were extraordinarily lucky. If Agent McGee wasn't, it's no reflection on him."

"That's not what I meant."

"Sure sounds like it. Agent Gibbs, accept that your agent is not like you, and that he will have his own timetable."

"What now?"

"Now, we wait for him to demonstrate that he's ready to wake up and take the next step. It will likely take some time, and his family will be here with him."

It was a clear sign of dismissal, and Gibbs accepted it. Tim was was in good hands now, and he'd stay safe. Speaking of being safe...

"Is Agent Saunders here?"

"I believe he is. He didn't want to go until he knew that Agent McGee was safe. He was with Security last I saw him."

"Thanks."

He looked at Tim one last time and then went to find Adam.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Agent Saunders was still in Security. When he saw Gibbs, he stood up, looking anxious.

"Agent Gibbs, you found him? Agent McGee is okay?"

"He will be. What happened?"

"I was on duty in the hall, like usual. They were transferring a patient, but apparently, the ceiling had been leaking and, when they pushed the gurney around the corner, it tipped. I ran down to help because the nurse looked really worried and she was calling for a doctor. I helped get the gurney up again and then get the patient back on the gurney. As soon as the doctor was there, I went back to Agent McGee's room and I went inside to tell him what had happened. ...and he was gone. I saw the note and I called you. That's it."

"And what did you do wrong?" Gibbs asked.

"I left my post. I shouldn't have gone down there...or if I did, I should have made sure someone else was there in my place. I shouldn't have left Agent McGee alone...but, sir, I _was_ keeping an eye on the room. I just wasn't doing a good enough job of it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Gibbs said, gruffly. "Agent McGee was determined to get out, apparently. He probably would have found a way, no matter who was there. That doesn't make you right, though."

"I wasn't right. I know that. I felt terrible about it, and if you decide to write me up, I'll understand."

"There'll be something, but it's not a firing offense."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't call me sir."

"Right. Sorry."

"You ready to get back on duty until you're relieved?"

Agent Saunders nodded.

"Do you really trust me to do it, Agent Gibbs?"

"You won't make that mistake again, will you," Gibbs said.

"No, sir."

"Good. Then, you'll be on duty until Agent Weaver comes."

Agent Saunders straightened and nodded. He rushed past Gibbs to return to Tim's room. Gibbs didn't know how much danger Tim might still be in, but Eric had mentioned being paid. That meant there was another layer and if this were important enough, these people might target Tim as a witness.

Besides, if Tim woke up sooner than Dr. Marteen thought he would and decided to go away again, there would be someone on hand to stop him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stirred and made some mumbling noises. His heart rate increased and he seemed to be trying to wake up. However, Dr. Marteen had said that it would be better if Tim stayed asleep for a while longer; so Naomi sat on the bed and gently lifted Tim so that his head was in her lap.

"It's all right, Tim. Just relax. Go back to sleep. Rest."

Tim twitched for a few minutes, but Naomi kept stroking his head gently, avoiding the stitches.

"Sleep, Tim."

Eventually, Tim quieted and sank into a deeper sleep.

"It almost funny," Sam said softly. "We spent all this time wanting him to wake up and now we're trying to keep him asleep."

"I wish we could get inside his head to understand what he was thinking, Sam. Why did he have to leave? Why wear himself out so much?"

"We don't need to ask him," Sam said. "We know that. Tim wouldn't ever accept just not knowing. He _has_ to know and understand what happened. It would never have been enough to be told what happened. He wouldn't feel like he'd done enough. Why he decided to do it now? I'd guess because it was now that the opportunity presented itself."

"I just want Tim to let himself recover. I don't care about solving the mystery as much as I want to have Tim back."

Sam took Naomi's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"And we will...and since Tim now knows whatever he knows...we can force him to do what is best."

Naomi smiled and squeezed Sam's hand back.

"How much do they know, do you think?"

"Enough," Sam said. "And they'll tell us when it's necessary. I don't care so much about that so long as Tim is safe."

Tim stirred a little and Naomi calmed him again.

"Do you think he's dreaming?"

"Who knows? Our son doesn't tend to be typical. I'd never presume to guess what's going through his head."

They settled down to watch Tim until visiting hours ended.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

"He has a lawyer...and he's too expensive for a grad student," Tony said, looking through the window into interrogation.

"Where did the lawyer come from?"

"I guess that was his one phone call. He hasn't said anything since we brought him over from holding."

Gibbs nodded. "Figures."

"I do not think Eric Rousseau is calling the shots here," Ziva said. "He does not seem very happy that the lawyer is here."

"He doesn't have to have him if he doesn't want him."

"Not on _our_ account," Tony said. "That guy might be protecting someone else."

"Let's see how independent he is. He knows that we're onto him."

"But I don't know if he's realized that he knows something we don't," Tony said.

"Yes, and that lawyer may be here to keep Eric from telling _us_ who is paying him."

Gibbs nodded and headed into Interrogation. Eric actually looked a little relieved to see him...which was interesting considering the fact that he was being charged with murder and attempted murder.

"Mr. Rousseau, you understand why you're here? You're in quite a bit of trouble."

Eric swallowed, and Gibbs wondered who would be giving him the most trouble. In spite of the fact that he wanted to kill him for attacking Tim, he couldn't help being curious about the exact nature of Eric's relationship with the people who had paid him.

"You have something to accuse him of, then, do it," the lawyer said. "Don't waste our time."

Gibbs smiled.

"Are you under the impression that there's any question?"

"You have no direct evidence beyond that Mr. Rousseau was in the office. If he was guilty of murder, wouldn't he have killed your agent to keep it quiet?"

"He had the murder weapon with him. He claimed to be in the library. The library cameras had been tampered with, as had the computer science building cameras. None of the others." Gibbs looked at Eric. "Your alibi isn't worth anything. You had the murder weapon. You told me that you hadn't wanted to hurt Tim before last night."

"Is Tim okay?" Eric asked.

"Quiet," his lawyer snapped.

"He'll be fine," Gibbs said.

"I didn't want him to get hurt."

"Eric, keep your mouth shut. They don't have anything beyond circumstantial evidence."

"If you help us, it might not be as bad for you," Gibbs said.

"Don't try that, Agent Gibbs," the lawyer said.

Eric looked at the lawyer and then at Gibbs. He was over his head, and Gibbs could see it.

"You don't have to have him here if you don't want him, you know," Gibbs said. "You have the right to a lawyer...but you have the right _not_ to have a lawyer."

"I can tell him to leave?" Eric asked.

"Yes."

"This is not in your best interests, Eric. You don't know what these people might try to pull. They have a vested interested in taking you down," the lawyer said.

"I don't want you here," Eric said. "I want you to leave."

"You don't know what you're asking for."

_That_ sounded like a threat and Eric took it as such. He swallowed.

"I...want you to leave," he said again.

"I believe you were invited to go," Gibbs said and smiled.

The lawyer couldn't stay and he knew it...but he dragged it out.

"Agent DiNozzo, please help Mr. Rousseau's lawyer out of the building," Gibbs said, looking back over his shoulder.

In seconds, Tony was at the door.

"This way, sir," he said with exaggerated care.

The lawyer stalked out. As soon as the door closed, Eric sat back and exhaled loudly.

"You're in a lot of trouble, Mr. Rousseau," Gibbs said.

"I know. I know. I've had that stupid paperweight with me almost since that night. I hid it in the library, in my locker there...and then, I...I didn't dare leave it anywhere else. I had it with me all the time and I couldn't forget what I'd done with it."

"What happened?"

"Do I have to worry about what you'll do?" Eric asked.

Gibbs looked at this man. For a killer, he seemed pretty open...but then, he'd seen better actors. Still, the reality wouldn't change, no matter what he said.

"Let me lay it out for you. You killed a man and tried to kill another. If it's proven to be premeditated, you're looking at life in prison. If not, it depends. It also depends on what else you can give us."

Eric's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean, what else?"

"Who were you working for? Why? What did they want? What did they give you? If you have good answers to those questions, it might help you."

"You don't all that already? How did you find me, then?"

"Agent McGee suggested checking the cameras on campus to find where they'd been tampered with."

"Figures. I didn't do it until the next morning. I didn't have time until the police let us go. So you really don't know?"

"No, I don't. What happened?"

"I...I want to say that it was an accident, and with Tim it was. It really was! I didn't want to hurt him. I wouldn't have wanted to hurt any of the students. I didn't want to hurt Charles, either...but he kept at me and...and it just...I wanted him to stop! He wouldn't stop!"

"Explain."

"I'd been using his computer to try and break into the secure server," Eric said, slumping down in the chair. "I'd jumped around over the years while I was...stealing stuff from the department. They wanted me to get into the secure server, to scoop them with the work they were doing. I was trying it, and Charles came in and caught. He wasn't supposed to _be_ there that night! He wasn't! I was supposed to be alone. He knew what I was doing as soon as he saw it and he said that I was in trouble, that he wasn't going to stand for anyone tarnishing his good name by sneaking around. I tried to talk my way out of it, but I'm not so good at that. He wouldn't listen. He grabbed me and pulled me out of the chair. He got in my face and said that I was going to prison for the rest of my life. ...and before I knew it, I'd grabbed the paperweight. I just wanted him to stop! And so I hit him. Again and again...until he stopped." Eric closed his eyes and leaned on the table. "He stopped. Then...I was trying to figure out what to do and I heard someone coming. I couldn't let them see me there. I was swinging as the door was opening, but...but it was Tim. ...and I tried to stop, but I couldn't stop the swing. The expression on his face when he looked at me, right when I hit him. He was so surprised. He was so shocked. And then, he hit the desk and hit the ground. And he wasn't moving. I thought I'd killed him, too. I just...ran."

"How did you get out with no one seeing you, without being on the cameras?"

"Two of the cameras don't work. I've been here for a long time. I know every nook and cranny of that building. Two cameras have been malfunctioning almost since the building was finished. I went out that door...went to the library, cleaned off all the blood and then went back, thinking that I could get rid of the cameras showing me going in...but the police were there, and I couldn't. I don't think I've ever hacked faster than I did when they let me go."

Eric opened his eyes and looked at Gibbs.

"I know that Tim is on your team, that you care a lot about what happened to him. I know that I can't take it back. I know that I...that I'm a killer now. I know all that, but I didn't want to! I didn't...if I had known it was Tim coming in...I wouldn't have..." He shook his head. "...maybe, I would have. I don't know. I would hope that I would have stopped myself. I was glad that he couldn't remember. I was glad we weren't allowed to visit him. ...and I was so glad that he'd survived...whether you believe me or not."

Gibbs was almost surprised to find that he _did_ believe what Eric had said. Ducky's analysis of the injuries had indicated the same emotions as Eric had described. Desperation.

But there was more to come because Eric had mentioned _them_, whoever they were. His focus was, understandably, on the crime he'd been arrested for, but he also didn't seem to really grasp that he had a chance to make things a little easier for himself.

"Who were you selling to?"

"Selling?" Eric asked. "No...I was just doing my job."

"Your job? Since when is espionage a job?"

"Espionage? No. That's not what it was. I know it wasn't _right_, but it wasn't for..."

"The projects on that secure server aren't just the kinds of things you want to steal for money."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you could be working for terrorists, Mr. Rousseau."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"_Terrorists?" _Eric repeated dumbly. He looked shell shocked.

"Could there really be someone out there more naive than McGee in his first case?" Tony asked, as he and Ziva watched the interrogation.

"Apparently there is," Ziva said. "Either Eric Rousseau is a master actor or else he really had never considered the possibility. If Gibbs can accept that he did not want to kill McGee, then, it is a possibility that he is telling the truth now."

"Yeah, maybe."

"_Yes, terrorists, Mr. Rousseau. Why are you so surprised with what's on that server?"_

"_I never got in there!"_ Eric said. _"I never managed to break in! They just wanted the programs on the server. I got a...a salary, I guess you could call it, plus a bonus whenever I gave them something worthwhile."_

"_Then, why were you going to leave?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_You said that you were going to get a job somewhere else. Why?"_

"He's getting lost in what's going on," Tony said. "He hardly even knows what Gibbs is asking him anymore."

"How long had he been at the university?" Ziva asked.

"Since he was eighteen from what he said himself. He was an undergraduate and then got his Master's there and was working on his Ph.D. He was a perpetual student."

"_They thought it would look too suspicious when they got what they needed...uh... They told me that it was time to move on."_

"_And do what?"_ Gibbs asked.

"_I don't know. I guess...I just thought that...that I'd be done."_

"Yeah, done," Tony said. "And we'd find his body in a field somewhere with a bullet through his skull."

It was clear that Gibbs was thinking the same thing.

"_Done how? You'd get a different job or they'd be done with you?"_

"_Uh...I don't know."_

"_Who are they? You've mentioned them quite a bit, but you haven't identified them. Who are they?"_

"_It's a...a company."_

"_What is it called?"_

"Do you think he's hesitating because he's afraid or because he doesn't know if he's supposed to cooperate?" Tony asked.

"I am thinking that he is still trying to accept that he is guilty of murder and yet Gibbs is focusing on the people he works for," Ziva said. "A job probably does not seem very important when you are accused of murder."

"Yeah, you're right."

"_Will I be in danger if I tell you? I signed confidentiality agreements when they hired me. They said it's how all companies get ahead. It's just a matter of who does it better."_

"_This is called, at best, corporate espionage, Mr. Rousseau,"_ Gibbs said sternly. _"At worst, you're working for terrorists. You tell me if this is something everyone does."_

Eric looked more than a little nervous.

"_Rainer Technologies. Their headquarters is in Arlington. They have a lot of contracts with the federal government! Wouldn't they know if what they were doing was shady?"_

"Wow. This is naivety bordering on stupid," Tony said. "How could this guy be so smart and yet not know this stuff? I knew business was shady before I finished high school!"

"Your father may have had something to do with that," Ziva said. "Perhaps this man has had no experience with business."

"And doesn't watch the news? Or read a newspaper? Or get on a single website that has news on it on occasion? Come on!"

"_How did they hire you?"_

"_I applied for a job there after I finished my degree. They interviewed me, asked about what I could do, and they hired me."_

"_When did you start stealing for them?"_

"_After I finished my Master's."_

"_Didn't you see anything wrong with that?"_

Eric shrugged a little.

"_They said it was normal...like how even allied countries spy on each other in the hopes of getting the upper hand. It doesn't change the fact that they're allies."_

"_I see."_

"_Yes, I knew it was stealing, but, Agent Gibbs, that seems to be the way the world is! Politicians bribe each other, spending our money on things that will benefit ten people or less just so that they can get ahead. CEOs make millions of dollars and more every year but choose to cut jobs and have worse products rather than reducing their own pay a little bit. Someone can be sneaky, lying, or anything else, but when they get caught, if they're famous enough, all they have to do is say they're sorry and no one cares. Isn't that what the world is like?"_

Ziva smiled and looked at Tony.

"Okay, so he's not naive about the world, just too _not_ naive."

"Too not naive? What does that mean?" Ziva asked.

"He's decided that there's no point in trying to be any different because everyone is corrupt. He _needs _a little naivety."

"_No, that's not what the world is like, Mr. Rousseau. That's what part of the world is like, and you didn't have to be there if you didn't like it."_

Eric leaned back in the chair.

"_Doesn't really seem to matter right now. I'm a murderer, Agent Gibbs. What does my job matter?"_

"_Because what those people are doing is illegal, Mr. Rousseau, and that means that we are required to investigate them and stop them. ...and I think that you might be in danger. Was that lawyer paid for by Rainer Technologies?"_

"_Yeah. I called them and he just showed up. I didn't like him. I'd never seen him before."_

"_Why didn't you like him?"_

"_He just kept insisting that nothing would come of this...as if it didn't matter that I'd killed someone. I tried to hide it, but I didn't think it was okay!"_

"_And you didn't think he cared about that?"_

"_No, I didn't. So...Agent Gibbs, does all this mean something?"_

"_If you tell us everything you know about Rainer Technologies and what they wanted from you, you'll likely get a deal."_

"_What kind of a deal?"_

"_Not as much prison time."_

"_So...I'll be going to prison, then?"_

"_I don't think you'll be able to avoid it, but you'll be better off than you would be without cooperating. ...and you'll be doing the right thing. What are you going to do?"_

"He's going to do it," Tony said. "He trusts Gibbs and he's got nothing to lose."

"And he probably feels it is what he must do to make up for what he did."

Eric took a deep breath.

"_Will you tell Tim that I'm sorry I hit him, that I really didn't want to hurt him?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Thanks. Tell me what I have to do. If you have some kind of deal, then, great, but...I'll take whatever. I killed a man, Agent Gibbs. Nothing can change that."_

"_That's true...but you can make things better."_

"_I'll tell you whatever you want to know."_

Gibbs nodded and gestured to Tony.

"It's time to get the details," Tony said. He looked through the glass one more time. "I hate it when I feel sorry for a killer."

Ziva looked at Eric as well. "I hate it when a person who is _not_ a killer becomes one."

"Yeah."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up, feeling a little confused. He opened his eyes and wondered if he was on the floor or in a bed. The last thing he remembered clearly was realizing that Eric had been in Charles' office.

Eric had been in Charles' office!

He sat up quickly and, instantly, felt incredibly dizzy.

"Tim, what's wrong?"

Tim blinked a few times and focused on the hands on his arms. Small hands. Then, the person attached to those hands pinged on his brain.

"Sarah. What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Sitting with you, waiting for you to wake up. What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to...to Gibbs," Tim said. "It's really important."

Sarah's face scrunched up.

"Something more than you told him before?"

"What did I tell him before?"

"Tim, don't you remember what happened at the college?"

"I went there. I wanted to remember. And I did! I was..." Tim looked around and realized that he was in the hospital again. "I really went there, right? I didn't just think I did?"

"No, you did. It was _stupid_, but you did," Sarah said.

"I had to remember," Tim said.

"Right then? Did you have to sneak out of the hospital and go over there when you clearly weren't ready to leave? Tim, you could have been _killed_! That wasn't necessary! It was _stupid_!"

"What happened after? How did I get back here?" Tim asked. He'd heard her lecture, but he was too confused to acknowledge it.

"Tim, are you all right?" Sarah asked, sounding more worried than angry now.

"They know what I remembered?"

"Yeah. Tim, they were _there_!"

"They were?"

"Yes!"

"Oh."

Tim leaned back in bed, wondering why it was that he didn't remember the team being there. Had he somehow traded one memory for another?

"I'm getting Dr. Marteen, Tim. I'll be back."

Tim nodded vaguely. He barely noticed when Sarah left him alone in the room. He didn't remember coming back here. He remembered leaving. He remembered meeting up with Eric. He remembered going up to Charles' office. Things started to get fuzzy, then, but he remembered remembering Eric.

"Tim?"

Why had everything disappeared after that?

"Tim."

What had happened in the interim? Was it important? Had Eric attacked him again?

There was a hand on his arm and he felt himself being shaken very gently.

"Tim."

Tim blinked and looked up. There was Dr. Marteen.

"Back with me?"

"I don't...remember after I remembered."

Amazingly enough, that didn't confuse Dr. Marteen like Tim thought it might have.

"You passed out, Tim, and it's no wonder. You pushed yourself to the breaking point."

"I had to remember."

"You didn't go about it in the right way," Dr. Marteen said firmly.

"I asked once, and Gibbs said no. ...but I couldn't keep...sitting here, waiting."

"Yes, you could have, and you _should_ have. Tim, I want you to listen carefully to me, okay?"

Tim looked at Dr. Marteen and nodded.

"You cannot push yourself like that. Overexertion can lead to death if it goes too far. No, you weren't exercising too much, but your body has not yet recovered from what happened. Your determination to remember could have killed you. If you can't remember all that came after you passed out, it's no surprise to me because you were probably running on fumes before you got there. I know you wanted to remember what happened, but it could have been dealt with more carefully. Tim, it will take time for you to get back to normal, and if you keep on doing this kind of thing, it will only make it take longer."

Tim nodded, but he wasn't sure how to react to what Dr. Marteen told him. He understood, and it was starting to ping on his brain that what he'd done was kind of dumb. Why had he thought it was a good idea?

"Tim?"

"Was I stupid again?" he asked. "I was stupid when I walked in there the first time. Did I do it again?"

Dr. Marteen smiled.

"Foolish, unthinking. You're not stupid, Tim. Part of your problem is that you're just not thinking through things. That's a facet of your injury and it will get better."

"Are you sure? I don't want to be stupid," Tim said, feeling more than a little disquiet about what he had been told about his own behavior. It was like hearing about someone else's actions and knowing they were complete idiots.

"The fact that you can understand that there's an issue with what you did tells me that you're going to recover. It will just take time."

"Yeah. Time. I remembered what happened before and I forgot what happened after."

"You wore yourself out, Tim. You were so exhausted that you passed out. It doesn't surprise me at all that you don't remember what happened after that. From what I've been told, you didn't miss much."

"Did they get Eric?"

"I believe that the person who attacked you was arrested, yes."

"What happens now?" Tim asked.

"I don't know what will happen with the case. I'm a doctor, not an agent. From your perspective, though, what happens now is that you focus on recovering, not on that case whatever it is. I know you want to be involved in it, but you can't be. What you can do is give your mind and body a chance to get better. Relax and think of it as a vacation."

"Not much of a...vacation...sitting here, doing nothing." Tim struggled to find the words to explain how he felt. "Life is... I'm missing it. I'm sitting here...and I feel so...slow and...and isolated from...from life." He stared at his hands. "I don't like it."

"You don't have anything else to think about."

"Yeah. It's hard."

"We can try and help with that. You'll be continuing your physical therapy and rehab, but we and your friends and family can help you occupy your time. That's something I can understand. Just be patient, all right?"

"I'll try to be." Tim thought about it for a little bit more, but then, he looked at Dr. Marteen again. "So I'm not going to be stupid, then?"

"You're not stupid now, Tim. I promise."

"Okay."

Dr. Marteen left and Sarah came back. He must have said something to her because she didn't berate Tim again. Instead, she started telling him about her classes. Tim was happy to let her talk. He could listen instead of trying to hold a normal conversation.

He relaxed more than he had for a what seemed like a long time.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Eric didn't think he'd ever feel relaxed again for the rest of his life. He had spent what seemed like hours telling Tony about everything he'd done for Rainer Technologies. He'd described the people he worked for, how many things they'd asked him to do, what they'd done themselves, how much money he'd been paid and for what services. Always, at the back of his mind, were two things that he couldn't shake. He had killed someone and he was going to prison. He was glad his parents were dead because this would have killed them. Would his sisters care? He didn't know. His family had never been really close. They were always busy with other things. After their parents had died, they had drifted even further apart. He hadn't spoken to them in years.

_I'm a murderer. I'm going to prison._

Now, he was sitting across from a JAG lawyer who was talking about the deal the DA would be willing to make with him for his cooperation. He barely heard what she was saying.

_I'm a murderer. I'm going to prison._

He tried to think of how this had all happened. He had known that what he was doing, stealing from the department, was wrong. At the time, he had been ambivalent, but he had also needed the money. He had seen so many evidences of corruption outside the university that it had been easy to convince himself that it was the way business was run. It had also let him _stay_ at the university, surrounded by the people he understood. When he had finished his bachelor's degree, he hadn't had the money to keep going and the offer from Rainer Technologies had seemed like the perfect solution.

It wasn't perfect anymore.

_I'm a murderer. I'm going to prison._

Over and over again, he went over what had happened that night. He had been trying to get into the secure server, using Charles' computer. Charles had come in and he had been furious. He had said that Eric was going to be in trouble, that he wouldn't get away with what he was doing, that his life was over, that he wouldn't stand for what Eric was doing. Before he knew it, he was hitting Charles in the head. It hadn't been planned. It had happened and been done before he had really even thought about it. One moment when he had stopped thinking and suddenly...

_I'm a murderer. I'm going to prison._

He was really glad that he hadn't killed Tim. He felt horrible about hitting him, had thought he was dead, too, but at least, he hadn't killed him.

"Mr. Rousseau?"

Eric blinked and looked at the lawyer.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No," Eric admitted.

"This is determining what is going to happen to you. You do need to pay attention."

"It doesn't matter," Eric said. "I'm a murderer and I'm going to prison. Whatever you decide, I don't care."

"You may not care now, but you will later."

"No, I don't think I will, Commander Coleman. I've ruined my life and taken the life of another person. I don't see how I could possibly care whether the rest of my life is spent in one prison or another. Nothing will change the fact that I killed a man."

Cmdr. Coleman actually seemed slightly sympathetic to him. She set her pen down and looked at him.

"You're right. Nothing will change that. However, you are doing your best to fix what can be fixed and that is important. The other thing to keep in mind is that there parts of the prison system in this country that you don't want to be a part of."

"I don't want to be a part of any of them."

"You're right. You don't, but you have the chance to serve your sentence in a low-security prison. That is not something you want to ignore. It means that, as much as is possible, you can live a life."

"In prison."

"Yes, in prison. A life sentence is possible, but it could be much less, perhaps a concurrent sentence, depending on how I present the facts to the DA."

Eric felt sick.

"Commander?"

"Yes?"

"I think...that I wish I was dead," he said and was embarrassed to feel his throat tightening. "I wish I could go back in time and not have done this. There were things that I didn't like about Charles, but...but he was a good man and I killed him. He didn't deserve to die!" He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "I killed a man and I'm going to prison for the rest of my life! Why would I want to live?"

There was a silence after his declaration. Eric couldn't look up, couldn't face the reality that was rapidly approaching.

"Mr. Rousseau, there's an old-fashioned saying that has some truth to it."

"What's that?"

"Where there's life, there's hope."

Eric lifted his head.

"What hope?"

"If nothing else, maybe by living, you can go a little further toward making amends."

"For murder?"

"I want you to focus on one thing right now, Mr. Rousseau. You have confessed, shown remorse, explained the facts as you know them and you are being cooperative. All those things work in your favor in the eyes of the justice system. As far as forgiveness goes...that is not the job of the courts. That is up to you, but you can't do it if you're dead. You are doing what you can, and you need to keep on doing what you can."

"What more can I do?"

"Any deal we make will be based on your willingness to testify."

"I'll tell you whatever."

"In court?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"If these people are determined to keep their secret, they may try to harm you or threaten you."

Eric shrugged. He didn't see that as a negative. In fact, if they managed to kill him, so much the better, as far as he was concerned. A life in exchange for the life he couldn't give back.

"I have your signed statement here. I'm going to give it to the DA and I'll discuss everything with him. Everything should be settled before you go before the judge. He'll have the final say, of course, but if we both agree, then, he'll likely concur."

"Fine."

Eric barely noticed when she walked out. He had fooled himself into thinking that, as long as no one knew it was him, he could go on as if nothing had happened. Now, as he'd been forced to acknowledge what he'd done, it was like the guilt he should have felt before was making sure he didn't miss a single bit of what he'd done.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

Faith took a breath and looked through the window into Interrogation when Eric was sitting.

"Why me, Agent Gibbs? I'm a JAG lawyer and this isn't taking place in military court, thank goodness for this man. You must know other lawyers."

"The other lawyers I know are _not_ lawyers that I want to deal with. He needs someone working for him...and you're the best."

Faith rolled her eyes.

"I don't need flattery, Agent Gibbs. I know how good I am."

"What do you think?"

"I think that you'd better keep him in holding and under observation. The reality of what's going to happen is hitting him now. He's at the stage of wishing he'd just been killed because then he wouldn't have to face prison."

"What do you think?"

"Well, he's showing remorse. He's confessed. He's more than cooperative. He claims that it wasn't premeditated. The time frame fits with that. Dr. Mallard's analysis fits. His description of what led to the murder fits with what he said. However, there are multiple counts involved here, plus he's admitted to multiple counts of theft."

"What are you going to propose to the DA?"

"A guilty plea along with full cooperation and testimony against his employer in exchange for second degree murder and aggravated assault, served concurrently. I'm going to ask for thirty years in a minimum-security prison."

"The odds of that being taken?"

"I think that, depending on the DA, depending on how serious this Rainer Technologies theft is, that could be very possible. There's even a possibility that they might take his cooperation into account and give him a chance to get out sooner. I don't know about that, however. I can't change the fact that his life can't be what it was going to be. That's the way things are."

Gibbs nodded.

"You're surprisingly sympathetic to someone who almost killed one of your agents."

"If he'd killed Tim, I wouldn't be sympathetic."

Faith smiled.

"Of course. I'll meet with the DA, give him all the information, we'll discuss it. I can't make any guarantees."

"You think it's likely, though?"

"Why so persistent, Agent Gibbs? This isn't like you."

"McGee has been asking about it. I want to give him as many facts as I can."

"How is he?"

"Recovering. Slowly."

"Do you think he'll be vindictive about it?"

"No."

"Well, I think that some kind deal will be possible. I think that minimum-security is probable. This is not a usual situation, and I agree that it's unfortunate that this man chose to ruin his life. He's the kind of person the ivory tower exists for and it's too bad he couldn't just stay there."

"Yeah."

Gibbs and Faith looked in at Eric one more time. He was probably close to Tim's age, maybe a couple of years younger. Even with the best deal possible, he'd be in his fifties before he got out. He was clearly intelligent, skilled...and that was going to waste because of what he'd chosen to do with his life.

Sometimes, reality was a horrible thing to face.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"...and so we're still waiting to see what the end result will be," Tony said. "Go fish."

Tim picked a card from the pile and stared at it for a long moment.

"Tony, why are we playing this?"

"Because it's the only set of cards I had."

"I find it hard to...to believe that you don't have poker cards."

Tony laughed. "I do, but I didn't think this was the time to be playing poker."

"So...why do you have Go Fish cards?"

"I don't know. I was surprised to find them. Figured they'd be a good option."

"Why?"

"Because I haven't played in a long time. Do you have any...threes?"

Tim handed Tony two cards.

"You still don't know what...will happen to Eric?"

"No. What do you _want_ to happen, Tim?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't...kill me when he could have. Gibbs said that he was sorry...about it. The whole thing...pretty much...sucks."

"Yeah, it does. I can't help but feel sorry for the guy."

"Yeah. Do you have any fours?"

"Oh, man! I had three of them!"

Tony handed the cards over and Tim smiled.

"That's what you get for bringing this...lame game."

"Lame? Come on! It's fun and you know it."

"Yeah...maybe."

Tim set down his cards and sighed.

"No one is...getting out of this...in a good way, are they."

"What do you mean?"

"Charles is dead. I'm...still...like this. Eric...he's going to prison. I was...going to be done with my...my...dissertation this summer. I can't even...string three words together."

"You just did."

Tim shook his head. It wasn't the time for jokes.

"I wanted this to be...a good thing, Tony. I wanted to...learn more...get better...and now I'm stuck here...feeling like an idiot."

"You're not an idiot, McGee. Not even close."

"I want...things to be better."

"They will be. Eventually. It's not going to be now, though."

"It was...almost better when I didn't know...how much I was having trouble."

"No, it wasn't...or at least, it wasn't for us. Man, it was hard to see you like that, Tim. This is _way_ better."

"Why?"

"Because you're up and around...sort of. You're thinking. You're talking. You're you. If you're not completely you yet, that's okay. You will be. ...and that's a lot of yous."

Tim smiled.

"I just don't want...I don't _like_ the way this happened."

"Who would? No one would like this, Tim."

Tim looked around the hospital room. He was nervous about saying this to Tony, but he was ready to take a chance.

"I'm afraid, Tony."

"Of what?"

"That...I'm...never going to be better than...than..." He couldn't think of the words to describe how he felt. "...than playing Go Fish."

"You are already better than playing Go Fish. I just didn't have a good selection of games at my place."

Tim looked at Tony sternly.

"Don't pretend, Tony."

"All right, you've got a ways to go. But I'm not lying. I really don't have many games, and you're better than Go Fish. You'll be _way _better than it later. You won't always be like this. And I can say that because your doctor says it and he knows more than I do."

Tim had heard people tell him this over and over, but he still worried about it.

"Thanks for spending time with me, Tony. I have a lot of...time on my hands."

"Yeah, I know."

"So...what now?"

"Now? We finish the game, Probie. I'm going to win."

Tim smiled and picked up his cards again.

"Do you have any nines?"

"Go fish."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The case was turned over to the FBI when it became abundantly clear that the Navy was only a tangent to the real issues. Gibbs thought about protesting but decided against it. Let the FBI deal with Rainer Technologies and all the powerful people who had lawyered up and were hanging Eric out to dry. All that he'd worried about he had done what he could.

When he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he was making an effort to help Eric. He had stolen from the computer science department for years. He had killed a man. He had seriously injured Tim and Tim would be recovering from that for a long time. Why would he want to help him?

He thought back to the interrogation when Eric had sat there across from him looking utterly bewildered and horrified by his situation. It seemed impossible that he could not have understood all this beforehand. He was intelligent, skilled and he was not somehow unaware of the world. And yet, there had been real regret in his eyes. Gibbs prided himself on being able to read people and, when he had taken the time to do so, he had not been able to feel a need for vengeance.

Faith had promised to keep him informed. She had made a deal with the DA, but the judge could always decide not to follow it. You never knew. They'd be appearing before the judge in another week.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

On the weekend, Gibbs decided to take an opportunity to see how Tim was doing. He'd been going through physical therapy and he was having another MRI soon. Tim was gradually improving, even if he was still frustrated by the slow pace of his healing, but nearly three months after his injury, it was pretty impressive that Tim was doing as well as he was.

He neared Tim's room and paused in surprise. There were voices he didn't recognize. He decided to stay out in the hall.

"So...have they hired someone new yet?" Tim asked.

"They're on the short list, I think, but we haven't seen anything yet."

"Are you coming back?"

"If they'll let me," Tim said. "I'm going home soon, but I'm not going back to work yet. I'm having some trouble keeping things straight."

"Is it permanent?"

"I hope not. I don't know. Dr. Marteen seems to think that I'll be getting...better. I can walk without falling over. I'm thinking more clearly. I'm just not there yet."

Gibbs peeked inside the room and saw Tim sitting on his bed in sweats. There were five people sitting with him. He recognized them all as people from the university, although he only knew Lancer and Arnold by name. It was interesting to see Tim surrounded by people other than from NCIS. Gibbs was glad they were there. They'd had to keep everyone but Tim's family away before and he was glad to have other people visiting him. That was as confident as Tim had ever sounded about himself and his potential for getting better.

"You sound a lot better than before," Lancer said.

"Well, from what I've been told...I was...pretty much out of it the last time you saw me."

"Yeah, you were."

"I hope I'm making more sense now."

"Definitely."

"But I'm not at peak capacity."

"Well..."

"You guys can be honest," Tim said. "I know. I feel the difference myself."

"I can tell, Tim...but it's not _really_ obvious."

"Yeah, it's only because we've been here for a while."

Gibbs saw Tim smile a little and fidget. He looked like he was feeling a little awkward with all the attention. Maybe it was time to go in. He knocked and walked into the room. Tim looked at him and gave a little awkward wave.

"Hey, Boss."

Instantly, the students got moving toward the door. It was clear that Gibbs being an agent made them uncomfortable. Lancer and Arnold both smiled little as they left, but they didn't seem to want to hang around, either. Gibbs didn't say anything about them not having to leave. Tim didn't, either. He said good-bye, thanked them for coming, and stayed where he was until they left.

"Hi, Boss," he said again.

"Visitors?"

"Yeah. I think they suddenly clued in to the fact that they could come and visit now that it looks like we...know what happened." Tim took a breath and looked around the now-empty room. He began rubbing his palms together in a circular motion.

"You all right?"

"When I don't think about it," Tim said.

"Think about what?"

"Wrong place. Wrong time. Stupid reaction. And here I am."

"You're doing a lot better."

"Yeah, I know."

He didn't seem happy about that, though.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs asked.

"What's going to happen to Eric?"

"Prison."

"How long?"

"Thirty years. Minimum security. Just like the deal."

Tim nodded.

"How do you feel about that?"

Tim shrugged. Gibbs was surprised. Tim had been nothing but agreeable about the deal Faith had made with the prosecutor. When asked, he had made a statement supporting it.

"What's wrong?" he asked again.

"Thirty years...minimum security. He almost killed me. He killed Charles. He was stealing information for years."

"Are you saying you don't like it?"

"I don't _know_!" Tim suddenly burst out. "Some days...I'm just...really mad about what happened." He laughed a little at the way he'd expressed himself. "I know Eric said that he didn't want to hurt me. I know that...that...that he probably means it. I just...part of me wants to say...so what? So what if you didn't _mean_ to! You still did!"

"You didn't say any of this before, not when the prosecutor asked you about it. You agreed with the deal."

"I know. I did...and I do... I don't want to see Eric paying for this for the rest of his life when it's mostly a matter of him...getting...in over his head."

Tim was still searching for words on occasion, and right now, when he was worked up, he was having a harder time.

"But?" Gibbs asked.

"But at the same time...look at me! He hit me on the head, scrambled my brain..." Tim spread out his hands helplessly. "That's the part of me that's the most...useful! The rest of me...doesn't...really matter, but...I'm still having a hard time thinking straight!" Tim got the sentence out, sounding more frustrated than anything.

"Are you regretting going along with the deal?"

"Why are you so okay with it, Boss?" Tim asked. "Everyone seems to think that it's for the best. I thought that...that you'd be mad about what happened to me."

Gibbs chuckled a little.

"We were."

"Then, why?"

"Because we saw someone who really didn't comprehend what was coming at him. We saw someone who had real remorse about what he'd done. None of us wanted him walking away with no punishment...and you said you agreed with it."

"Yeah."

"You want it both ways?"

"Is it stupid if I do?" Tim asked, staring at his hands which he had started rubbing together again.

"No. It's human."

Tim nodded and didn't answer.

"The MRI?"

"I'm still getting better." Tim took a breath. "Dr. Marteen thinks I'm ready to leave the hospital though."

_That_ was a surprise.

"Since when?"

"Last week."

"Have you told anyone?"

Tim shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because...it's...another stupid thing about me right now."

Gibbs sat down. This was not something he was expecting. Tim had been frustrated with how long it was taking him to get better. He was apparently recovered enough to get released, but he didn't seem happy about it.

"What's going on, Tim?"

Tim took a breath.

"Dr. Gray says it's normal."

"What is?" Gibbs asked, trying to be patient.

Tim wouldn't look at him. He seemed embarrassed.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of leaving here. I know I shouldn't be. I know I should be happy about it. I'm not. I'm scared to go."

"Why?"

"Because of what happened. I've been...having nightmares...about what happened. Dr. Gray says that anxiety is a normal reaction to this kind of trauma. He says that it'll fade. Right now, though...I'm just scared to go back out there." He took a breath like he wanted to say something more, but he stopped.

Gibbs was silent. For one thing, he didn't know what to say. Tim obviously knew that there was no reason to be afraid like this; so telling him that he didn't have to worry wouldn't help. But he thought maybe Tim would say more if he gave him the time to do so.

"And I'm afraid that I'll be like this forever."

"Like what?"

"Not myself. I'm afraid that I won't be able to go back to finish my Ph.D. I'm afraid that...that I won't be able to be an agent again."

"What does Dr. Marteen say?"

"That I should be fine."

"And you don't believe him?"

"I don't know. I'm better than I was, but I'm not _better_."

"You have time, Tim...even if you don't want to hear that still."

"But how much time do I really have? They can't hold that work at the department forever. As long as there's a risk, they have to wait. If I don't finish it...I'll have to start over...and I don't know if I can handle it, Boss," Tim confessed. "It's been so hard getting through...everything at once. I wasn't sure I'd make it, but I was getting...so...so...close. To be stopped now..." He sighed. "I just don't have it in me to do it all again."

"You don't know that you will."

"I know, but I'm afraid of that happening."

"Of course, you are."

Tim smiled.

"When you leave here are you ready to be on your own?"

"I don't know. It's not something I asked."

"How about you ask right now?"

"Why now?"

"So someone else knows what's going on and if you need some help, someone will know besides you."

Tim nodded.

"Okay."

Gibbs went and found Dr. Marteen, explained Tim's anxiety and the need for someone else to know what was going on. Dr. Marteen agreed and took some time to come to Tim's room.

"Tim, I understand that you're worried about leaving."

"Yeah."

"Dr. Gray indicated that there might be some challenges on that score."

"Yeah."

"All right. In terms of your physical ability to be on your own, you could. You're able to get around now. The dizzy spells have faded considerably. Your balance is good. So there's nothing to keep you from going back to your apartment, physically speaking. However, if you're having that much anxiety about getting back out there, it would be better if you stayed with someone until you're ready to deal with the outside world."

"It's stupid, isn't it."

"No, it's understandable." Dr. Marteen hitched himself up onto Tim's bed. "Tim, when there's a brain injury in conjunction with a violent attack, anxiety is very common. People who have gone through trauma like this, no matter _what_ the injury is have suffered from debilitating anxiety. We'll release you on the weekend, and if you want, that will give you time to figure out who you'll stay with."

Tim glanced at Gibbs.

"I'll ask around, McGee. Don't worry about it. ...and one more thing. You have a lot more going for you than just how smart you are."

"Thanks, Boss," Tim said softly.

Gibbs smiled and left. He could see that Tim was both afraid and embarrassed. The reaction he had to leaving the hospital was extreme and he knew it...but sometimes, knowing that something wasn't necessary and getting yourself to believe it were two different things. He was glad that Tim had been willing to explain himself because, otherwise, they would all have been clueless about why there was a delay. Now, he could check around, talk with Tim's parents, see what the best option would be.

After everything that had happened, after all the people who had lost in this mess, Gibbs was determined to make sure that _Tim_, at least, didn't lose anything more than time. Tim would get back to his job. He would finish his project. He would get his Ph.D.

...because Gibbs wouldn't allow for any other possibility.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

"I'm surprised he hasn't been afraid before, to be honest," Ducky said. "It was a frightening thing for him, especially with all that time he spent not remembering."

"Maybe that's _why_ he's only getting scared now," Tony said. "He could focus on being frustrated before."

"So...how do we deal with that?" Ziva asked. "You said that he knows he is likely not in any danger. It will not help for us to tell him what he already knows."

"He's going to be staying with me," Gibbs said. "At least for a little while after he leaves. His parents are happy to have him with someone, and it'll help him relax."

"Maybe," Tony said with a grin. "McGee may not be the most comfortable living in _your_ house, Boss."

"Better than with you, Tony," Abby said. "He could stay with me!"

"You would smother him," Ziva said. "McGee does not need to be smothered. He just needs time to adjust, yes?"

"What do you want _us_ to do, Boss?"

"Mostly what you're already doing."

"But now that we know it's an issue for him, we should respect that and not make him feel as though he is wrong for feeling that way," Ducky said.

"Yeah."

"How do we help him get past that?" Ziva asked.

"You can't force him to stop being afraid. He's having therapy to deal with it all, but he needs people to be there and reinforce what he knows is true."

"What about during the day?" Jimmy asked. "When we're all at work..."

"He won't be alone," Gibbs said with a smile.

"Who will be there?"

Abby smiled. She got it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how he felt about leaving the hospital. He wasn't sure how he felt about staying with Gibbs. He _really_ wasn't sure about that.

Still, he did want to recover, and he knew this was part of it. He needed to leave the hospital in order to get back to his life. It wouldn't happen if he hid where he was.

"Are you ready, Tim?"

Tim smiled at his family. They were there to see him take the next step, but then, they had to go back to their lives. He would be staying to continue his therapy and, hopefully, get back to his own life again.

"I guess I need to be," he said. "It's... I can't...live here forever."

"Don't forget that you can call us any time you need to talk," Naomi said. "And you won't be alone."

Tim nodded. "Yeah. I...I know."

He got into the wheelchair. Sam rolled over by him.

"Hey, one of the few times we're at the same level," he said. "It's okay to be afraid, Tim. Just don't let it hold you back. Edward Vernon Rickenbacker said, 'Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared.'"

"I'll try to remember that," Tim said. "...because I _am_ scared, Dad."

"I know."

Gibbs came in and Tim felt worried about staying with him. Actually, he'd felt worried about a lot of things ever since he'd awakened after remembering what little he'd remembered. Everything that he did gave him anxiety. He hated the feeling because it wasn't how he'd been before. It was different.

"You ready to go, Tim?" he asked.

Tim nodded.

Sarah took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Tim out of the room. He appreciated the fact that he didn't have to walk out of the hospital under his own steam. He reached back and patted Sarah's arm. She paused and hugged Tim from the back.

"I'm glad you're getting better, Tim," she said softly.

"Me, too."

He took a breath as they pushed him out of the hospital. Gibbs had parked his car right there. When they got to the car, Tim stood up, pushed away the momentary dizziness and headache that he was still getting rid of, and then, he turned around and hugged his mother.

"Good luck, Tim," she said. "And you keep us informed. Don't forget to call and let us know how you're doing. If you don't, we'll swoop down here faster than you can blink."

Tim nodded and then took a chance and leaned down to hug Sam. As he stood up, he felt a bit unbalanced and had to support himself by pressing on his dad's shoulders. Sam grabbed his arms and helped steady him.

"Go for it, Tim. We'll be rooting for you, even from a distance."

Tim smiled and then looked at Gibbs.

"Okay, Boss."

Gibbs nodded and gestured toward his car. Tim walked over and got in. He'd see his parents tonight before they left, but this was the real good-bye. He was leaving the hospital, and he was going to try and get back to life again.

The ride over to Gibbs' house was awkward...at least on Tim's side. Tim just didn't know what to say. He was going to be living in the same house as his boss, and Gibbs wasn't exactly the entertaining type. Tim wasn't even sure he really knew what all of Gibbs' house looked like. He'd been in the basement before. He'd been on the main floor. ...but the rest of it? He had no idea. It wasn't a very open, inviting space. He figured it had looked like that for many, many years.

And what about when everyone was gone to work and he was just sitting around? Tim knew that he'd start worrying about being alone, but he didn't want to bring that up again. It was embarrassing enough that he'd already confessed to Gibbs how afraid he was of leaving the hospital. His family knew, but they were his family.

There was silence until they pulled up to Gibbs' place. Tim carefully got out of the car and, reluctantly, let Gibbs get his stuff. Then, it was a slow careful walk to the front door and into the house.

"Have a seat, Tim."

Tim walked to the couch and sat down. He looked around, wondering what he was going to do here...for however long he stayed here. As he sat alone in the living room, he felt the unfortunately-familiar sick feeling in his stomach. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to stand this for the days when he was here by himself.

"Boss?" Tim called. "Boss?"

Gibbs came into the room.

"What is it?"

"I don't think I can stay by myself here. I know it's dumb, but..."

"It's not, and you won't be."

"I don't want people taking off work just to sit here and keep me from jumping at monsters in the closet."

Gibbs just smiled and walked out of the room again for a moment. Then, Tim heard a familiar sound. He started to smile.

Jethro (the dog) bounded into the room, jumped on the couch and started licking his face.

"Jethro!" Tim said. He hadn't given his dog even a second's thought during the entire time he'd been in the hospital.

Jethro seemed to have missed him. He was whining in that way he did when Tim was late getting home. Tim hugged his dog tightly.

After a minute, he suddenly remembered that Gibbs (the other Jethro) was there. He looked up and felt a little embarrassed. Gibbs was standing there with a knowing smile on his face.

"Feeling better?"

Tim thought about it and was surprised to realize that, yes, he _did_ feel better.

"He obviously feels better."

Tim flushed.

"I didn't even think about him."

"You had other things on your mind."

Tim swallowed and nodded. He hugged Jethro again.

"Yeah...like a paperweight."

Gibbs chuckled a little.

"You think you'll be all right with Jethro around?"

Tim gave that due consideration. There was no question that he felt better just by having Jethro around, and he knew that Jethro wouldn't let anyone at him. He nodded.

"I think so."

"Good. Now, here's how it's going to work," Gibbs said, getting down to business.

Tim let Jethro go, but smiled when the German shepherd put his head on Tim's knee and began drooling all over it.

"I'll take you to your therapy in the mornings and we have a rotating schedule of people who will take you back here in the afternoon."

"Oh...Boss, that's..."

"Until you can drive yourself, I don't think you can protest too much, McGee," Gibbs said drily.

"I guess you're right."

Gibbs sat down beside him.

"No guessing about it."

"Yeah."

"You're getting all the way back, McGee. You'll see."

"Okay."

Tim liked hearing that, but he was still feeling very unsure. It seemed like the more time passed, the more conscious he was of his limitations. Maybe Gibbs could see that. He just smiled and got back to his feet.

"Feel free to explore the house. I'll be back."

"Where are you going?" Tim asked...and then, he blushed. "Not that you...have to...tell...tell me where you're going or anything...Boss."

Gibbs laughed.

"Relax, McGee. I'll be back."

Then, he left. Tim leaned back on the couch for a few minutes, Jethro panting contentedly beside.

"So...Jethro...is there anything exciting around here?" he asked.

Jethro looked at him with an adoring expression...if a dog's face could be adoring. Tim smiled.

"All right. We'll forget exciting. Let's go outside."

Jethro started jumping around excitedly. Tim laughed and, feeling more lighthearted than he had since he woke up from his coma, he got to his feet and let Jethro lead him out to the backyard.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs pulled up to the visitor parking and then walked over to the computer science building. He wanted to know where Tim stood as far as his work here was concerned, and maybe ask for some help from the people who knew Tim and knew how hard he had worked on finishing the project.

He headed up to the main office. It was the middle of the summer. He didn't know if any of the faculty would be around. They had a very different schedule from NCIS. He walked into the office.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?"

Gibbs smiled at the student secretary. She didn't look very busy.

"I'm looking for Dr. Roger Brown."

"He's in his office, I think. Would you like me to check?"

"I know where it is. Thank you."

Gibbs walked back to Roger's office and knocked on the door. This wasn't his domain and he would respect the person whose domain it was. Roger had never done anything to lose his respect.

"Come in!"

Gibbs opened the door. Roger was sitting at his desk, surrounded by paper.

"Since you're a computer guy, shouldn't you have less paper?"

Roger looked up and smiled.

"Agent Gibbs. I suppose that would be the assumption, but, unfortunately, no. I'm teaching a summer course and, glutton for punishment that I am, I have weekly assignments that need to be graded. I'm more than happy to set them aside." He looked down at his desk, pushed one of the piles to the side and gave Gibbs his full attention. "What can I do for you? Is there more?"

"Not with the case."

"Good. We're almost ready to hire a replacement for Charles. A lot of the students are still unsettled by everything that happened. ...and Eric...I still can't believe that he was stealing from us the whole time he's been a graduate student. He had such promise. I can't believe he threw all of it away...and I'm _really_ sorry that Charles and Tim had to pay the price for that."

Gibbs nodded.

"Anyway, since that's not what you're here about...why _are_ you here?"

"I'm not here officially. Tim left the hospital today."

"That's wonderful. So he's getting better?"

"Yes. Slowly."

Roger nodded. "Sherman will be very glad to hear that. His dislike of hospitals has kept him from visiting Tim, but he's wanted to know how Tim was doing. Is he home?"

"He's staying with me for a while."

Roger smiled, and Gibbs wondered what Tim had said about him.

"Was there anything else?"

"Yes. I had a question. Will Tim be allowed to come back and finish his Ph.D.?"

"Tim's worried about that?"

"Yeah, but he's worried about pretty much everything for the last little while. Side effect of his injury."

"Oh. Now that we know who was trying to get in, there's less urgency, but we would like to get it finished."

"Are you going to let Tim finish?"

"Ah. We want to, Agent Gibbs. We really do. This is Tim's work and it's his ideas and I don't think anyone else could finish it in the same way. The problem is how much time it will take. We're still leery of getting back to work on it without a secure program in place. We can go back to the old one while we're working, but at the same, the transition to the new program has already started."

Gibbs could see that Roger was sincere, but he could also see that he was concerned.

"What if Tim started working on it again?"

"Is he ready to do that?"

"Not like he was, and I don't know how much he could do. You'd have to ask him, but he's going to have a lot of time on his hands while he's recovering. Might as well be working on this as sitting around."

"This is important to you, I can see. I want Tim to succeed here after everything that's happened. Talk to him, ask him to call me. If we can arrange for him to get working here again, I'm all for it."

"Good."

"It's been a crazy few months. Having Tim coming back here, even if it was only for a little while...I think it would help us as well as him."

Roger stood up and put out his hand.

"I'll be happy to talk to him about it, Agent Gibbs. I'm glad that Tim has so many people trying to watch out for him."

"He won't run out of them."

Roger chuckled. "That I can believe."

Gibbs shook Roger's hand and then left his office, feeling better about what Tim could accomplish. He headed back home and when he got there, Tim wasn't in the house. He had a moment of worry and then, he heard barking from the backyard. That was as excited as Jethro had sounded since he'd been here. He walked back to the yard and watched as Jethro ran across the grass and jumped on Tim who was sitting on the ground.

Jethro knocked Tim to the ground and Tim was laughing as he fended off his dog. Gibbs was glad to see that. It gave him more hope for Tim's recovery and it told him that he was right about what Tim needed.

Something to occupy his time and his mind. Recovering he might be, but Tim needed to be doing something more than just recovering. With a smile Gibbs headed out to tell Tim what he'd found out.

Better to give him something else to think about right now than to wait and let him worry about the fact that he was a guest in Gibbs' home.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

"I could go...back there?" Tim asked. He sounded more perplexed by the suggestion than anything.

"Dr. Brown seemed to think you could, but you'd have to talk to him. I don't speak that language."

Tim bit his lip for a moment and Jethro started nudging at him.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs asked.

"I still feel stupid," Tim said. He looked down at the ground and started pulling up a few blades of grass.

Gibbs really wanted to smack Tim upside the head. He might be struggling a little bit, but he was far from stupid...except about this. However, the head slap would have to wait until Tim wasn't recovering from a TBI.

"You're not."

"Boss...I..."

"Would you rather sit around here doing nothing?"

Tim smiled a little, although he still stared at the ground.

"Jethro will be here."

"Tim, think about it. Will that really be enough for you? Sitting around here when you're not at therapy, playing with your dog? That might be enough for now, but for the months it might take?"

Tim shrugged.

"That wasn't rhetorical, McGee."

"What if they think I shouldn't be there?"

"They won't."

"What if they do?"

"Tim, they're your friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"They're not going to think that."

"Even when there's no reason to...to worry...I still worry."

"I know."

"You want to get back to your life, don't you?"

Tim nodded.

"This is a step. He doesn't expect perfection of you. Don't expect it of yourself."

"I did that _before _I got my brains smacked out of me."

Gibbs chuckled. That was for sure.

"Well, maybe you can make an improvement."

Tim smiled and finally lifted his head.

"Maybe."

That was the best Gibbs could expect to get at this point. Tim would be okay once he did it. It was the anticipation that made him worry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat down at the table in Gibbs' kitchen. It had been a couple of days since he had been told that he could start doing something more...and it was probably a good thing. Jethro was great. His presence had helped Tim relax a bit as he adjusted to being out of the hospital, but at the same time, he was starting to understand what Gibbs had meant about it not being enough. He needed more.

Gibbs was at work. Tim was staring at the phone, trying to get the courage to dial a number.

He'd been sitting here for half an hour.

Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed before he could talk himself out of it.

"_Roger Brown."_

"Hi...Roger."

"_Is this Tim?"_

"Y-Yeah."

"_It's wonderful to hear from you, Tim. I haven't seen you since before all this chaos happened."_

"Yeah."

"_Agent Gibbs spoke to me about you coming back here on a limited basis...as much as you feel you can handle."_

"Yeah."

There was a chuckle. _"You sound really nervous, Tim."_

"I am. I know that...that I'm not going to be normal yet and...I don't want people to be...uncomfortable."

"_Tim, I won't deny that some of the students...and faculty for that matter...might be a bit awkward to start, but the sooner you come back and get to work, the sooner we'll all adjust and that's a good thing. I can tell that Lancer has still been struggling with things and seeing you doing what you were doing before would probably be good for him."_

"You think so?"

"_Yes, but you need to do what will work for you. If you don't think this is a good idea, then, by all means, you can wait. ...but don't worry about the rest of us. We can take it. Is this what you want?"_

"I've been...worried about trying to work on it again."

"_That you can't do it or just that it contributed to your injury?"_

"That I can't do it."

"_Well, let's try it out, shall we?"_

"Okay."

"_Good. You come over tomorrow, if that will work for you..."_

"It'll...It'll work."

"_All right. Then, I'll be happy to see you tomorrow and we can work out the details, Tim."_

"Thanks."

Tim hung up and took a deep breath. He had physical therapy this afternoon. For now, he could...relax. If that was possible.

"Jethro!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I would like to take Tim to his therapy today, if you do not mind, Gibbs," Ziva said.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"I want to play my part."

"Hey!" Tony protested.

"You can take your turn another day," Ziva said. "Please, Gibbs?"

"Go ahead."

Ziva smiled and nodded. She hurried out. She couldn't linger, but she wanted to spend even a small amount of time with Tim on her own, rather than as a group. Tim was her friend and with the all the work he'd been doing on his doctorate and then with his injury, she had not been able to spend much time with him.

When she got to Gibbs' house, she hesitated before knocking on the door. Tim didn't know that she would be coming instead of Gibbs.

She knocked.

There was a bit of delay before Tim opened the door. The surprise was evident on his face.

"Ziva...what are you doing here?"

"I am here to take you to your therapy today."

"Is Gibbs busy?"

"No. I asked to do it. I wanted to spend a little bit of time with you without others around all the time."

Tim smiled a little. "That could be worrying."

Ziva smiled back. "It should not be, but I am glad to see you smiling."

"Yeah...there's been...not much I can smile about...not easily, anyway."

"I understand, but you are doing so well."

Tim took a deep breath.

"I still need people to remind me...because it's hard to believe it."

"But before you did not even know."

"I know. I'm still trying to decide if it's better to _know_ that I'm kind of stuck or if...it would be...better not to realize it."

"It is better because that means you are getting better. That is a good thing."

I'm trying not to be such a drag. It's been nice to have Jethro around. He's... I mean, he's a dog, but..."

"Pets are nice," Ziva said. "It is all right to say you are happy being with him again."

Tim flushed and looked out the window.

"It's funny how things change."

"In what way?"

"Sometimes...it just seems like everything is so simple. All there is...just playing with my dog. Other times, it's so complicated that I don't know...what to do. There's my job...and school...and...and Eric and Charles." Tim took a breath and let it out quickly. Then, he smiled. "That's why playing with my dog is...easier."

"I understand. Sometimes, it just seems to make more sense to focus on the simple things."

"You make it sound so normal."

"I think it is. You have been through a lot and to deal with it, you need to take it simply."

"Thanks, Ziva."

They pulled into parking lot and Tim got out. Ziva did as well.

"I _can_ walk, Ziva. You don't need to lead me inside. It's mostly my balance and endurance right now."

"I am not leading you. I just want to come with you."

Tim shrugged and walked into the hospital. He knew where he was going, and Ziva watched as he walked. There was still some uncertainty in his gait. He wobbled a little as he made his way to the physical therapy room. Ziva walked beside him and was careful not to rush him or steady him while he walked. He clearly wanted to be under his own steam.

"Tim, you made it right on time! And you've got a visitor with you?"

Ziva smiled at Tim's discomfort.

"No, I am a friend of his. I was giving him a ride."

"Ah, I see. Well, we've got lots to do. You ready?"

Tim nodded, and Ziva could see that was her cue to leave. If Tim didn't want people watching his physical therapy, she would not embarrass him.

"Good luck, Tim," she said.

"Thanks. And thanks for the ride."

"Thank you for letting me."

Tim smiled.

"Well, you didn't give me much choice. You just showed up."

"I hope it was not unpleasant."

Tim's smile widened.

"No. It wasn't. Not at all."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good. Then, I will leave you to your therapy."

Tim blushed a little and Ziva grinned at his reaction.

"I'm going to...uh...get to work."

"Good."

Ziva left Tim to his physical therapy and headed back to work. As she went, she felt a sense of relief. Tim's reactions were normal. He himself was far more normal than he apparently thought he was. There were times when he lost track of his words for a second and there were times when he was still a bit off balance, but he was still himself and that was wonderful to see.

Ziva was sure that Tim would get back all that he had lost.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, you seem especially pensive today," Dr. Gray said. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Tim repeated. "I don't know. I've been...thinking."

"About what?"

"About...all this stuff."

"And? What have you concluded?" Dr. Gray asked with a slight smile.

"Nothing, really."

"Let's be more specific, Tim."

Tim took a breath and looked at Dr. Gray.

"I've mostly been thinking about...Eric."

"All right. What about him?"

"I said it was okay, that I agreed with the lighter sentence he was getting in exchange for...for testifying against Rainer Technologies. He said he was sorry and that he wasn't thinking, that he wishes he could...take it back and... ...but it just doesn't always matter to me."

"That's all right, Tim."

"Sometimes, I want to kill him, though!"

"You're angry about what happened to you, about the struggles you're still having. That's all right."

Tim sighed. "But other times...I wish that he didn't have to go to prison at all. Why am I so mixed up?"

"You're trying to accept what happened to you. It doesn't surprise me, Tim."

"What can I do to stop feeling...so mixed up?"

"Just keep plugging along. As you work through it all, you'll find that you understand how you feel better. What _exactly_ will help...that depends on the person. We'll figure it out. Now, you're still going to go back to your schooling?"

Tim nodded.

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

"Let's talk about that, then."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs came and picked Tim up from therapy and took him back to his house. Tim went into the backyard and played with Jethro for a while and then, they ate dinner. Tim was keeping to himself and Gibbs let him.

After dinner, Tim went into the spare room and stayed there for a while. Gibbs figured he must have gone to bed. He went down to the basement. As usual.

It was after eleven when the door to the basement slowly opened. Gibbs looked up and saw Tim, standing hesitantly at the top of the stairs.

"What's up, McGee?"

Tim walked slowly down the stairs and sat down about halfway.

"Where's Eric, right now?"

"In prison."

Tim nodded.

"What is it, Tim?"

"Would it... Could...could I...maybe...visit him?"

Gibbs didn't show his surprise. He just shrugged.

"It's minimum security. He can have visitors. Why?"

"I think that...I need to...sometime."

Gibbs smiled.

"When?"

"Maybe...this weekend?"

"Why?"

"I don't...really remember everything that happened when I...tried to remember. But he had me at his mercy and...and he didn't do anything to me. And I...I need to...figure out how I feel about what he did...to me and to Charles. I want to...know how _he_ feels about what he did. I know he said that...that he was sorry, but I want to _hear_ him say it and see if he really means it."

"You don't trust me?"

Tim smiled.

"I don't know if I trust _him_."

Gibbs chuckled at the deflection. He could see how much Tim wanted this. It was kind of like when he was obsessed with remembering, but he was more rational this time. He was asking about it. He was explaining himself. He was uncertain.

He was himself.

"I think you could get a ride out there...if that's really what you want."

"I think it might be what I need," Tim said. "I don't know if I'm right, but still...I think I might need to."

Gibbs considered what Tim was asking. Was it the right course of action? Should Tim confront the man who had put him in this position? Would it be the right idea? ...and would Tim do it on his own if Gibbs said no?

"What do you think, Boss?" Tim asked.

"I think that...I'll trust you."

Tim smiled.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Tim got up and went back up the stairs. Gibbs smiled and got back to work.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Tim got out of the taxi and looked up at the building. The last time he'd been here was when he'd been in a cloud of confusion with only a determination to remember pushing him along. Now, he was anxious, but he was in his right mind.

He took a deep breath and then walked inside. He did have to take it carefully, and he used the elevator where, in normal circumstances, he'd have climbed the stairs instead. Still, he was walking and his mind was clear enough.

When he got off the elevator, he noticed that most of the department was empty. It was the end of the summer. People would be coming back soon enough, but perhaps they were taking advantage of the last a bit of free time.

"Tim?"

Tim turned. Bao Li was just coming out of the common room and she saw him.

"Tim! Hey, he's back!"

The door to the common room opened wide and about five people spilled out. Before Tim even had time to figure out who they all were, he was surrounded. They were all talking at once, and Tim could barely follow what was being said. His one consolation was that he probably wouldn't have been able to follow it all even _before_ he got bashed on the head.

"Guys, give him a chance to think! It's not like you haven't seen him before!" Lancer said.

Tim laughed.

"I'm...a little overwhelmed."

"Are you really back, Tim?" Arnold asked.

"Tentatively. For now. I have to meet with...with Roger."

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

"Then, come and talk to us later, okay?" Lancer asked.

"Okay." Tim extracted himself from the crowd and walked to Roger's office. He knocked.

"Come in!"

Tim walked into the office.

"Ah, Tim! Have a seat," Roger said with a smile. "I have to say that you're looking very well for someone who had a brush with death a few months ago."

Tim smiled. "I'm feeling a lot better, but I'm still...a little slow."

"Nothing wrong with slow."

"Are you sure about that?" Tim asked.

"Positive. Now, I'm assuming you would like to finish what you started."

"Yes. To be honest, Roger...I don't...know if I _could _start over. I really don't think I could handle that. I don't think I could even if I _hadn't_ been hurt like this. I was barely managing everything when I was thinking clearly. It would be too much for me...and I'm so close that it would kill me to...to...have to quit."

"I understand that feeling as much as anyone can. I did have to quit and start over, although not for the same reason."

"What happened?" Tim asked.

"Everyone here knows about my date night with my wife. We've made it a goal to keep connected."

"Yeah."

"Well, we got married while I was working on my Ph.D. About halfway through my doctoral project, my wife was in a car accident. It was extremely serious. She nearly died, and I spent a full two years with her, helping her recover, making sure that everything that could be done for her _was_ done. I had to get a different job, too. So I dropped out because we couldn't afford the medical bills _and_ my tuition. When she was getting better, I was in a job that paid well but it wasn't what I wanted. Still, I didn't say anything because it was more important that I be with my wife than get a degree." Roger smiled. "Louise didn't agree with me. She nearly forced me to go back to my old advisor and start again. ...and I had to start again. It was about the hardest thing I've done. Thankfully, my advisor helped me use as much of my old research as possible and so I wasn't forced to go back to square one, but it was a new project, new conclusions and four more years."

"Wow. I don't think I could have done that," Tim said.

"You never know what you can do until you have to do it. So...let's not waste any more time. Let's go down to the server and see what there is to see."

Tim nodded, feeling nervous, but knowing that this was the next step. They went down to the basement. Roger let them in. He hooked the computer up and got them started.

"Okay, Tim. I know that Sherman modified a few lines of code that you told him about...something with the interface?"

Tim nodded. He vaguely remembered asking for that.

"He decided it would be all right to fix that for you. Otherwise, it's just as you left it."

Tim sat down at the computer. He hadn't worked on a computer for a long time. It was almost strange to be sitting there and thinking about something other than his health. He brought up his program. The coding was so complicated that it almost made his head hurt just looking at it. Still, this was his work. He skimmed through it, refamiliarizing himself with what he himself had done. Then, he went to the interface and ran the program to see how it was working. Roger didn't say anything. He just let Tim work through things at his own pace.

Finally, Tim turned around.

"Well?" Roger asked.

"Um..."

"Tim, you're the only one who can say whether or not you're ready to start working again. If you are, great. If not, we can see how things will go, but none of us can make the decision for you. It's your mind and your project."

"Can I try it for a little while?"

"Of course. I'll leave you to it. When you're done for the day, come back up and let me know what you've decided."

Tim nodded. Roger left him sitting and staring at the screen.

Tim looked at the screen. The program was clunky. That was something he was sure he had noticed the first time. It was working but not well. He needed to fix that. He couldn't leave it that way. It was _wrong_.

Almost tentatively, Tim started looking at the first section of his programming. He could see, instantly, where Sherman had smoothed out some of his work. However, while he appreciated it, it didn't fit with what he was doing. That was a good place to start, actually. Tim started looking through the coding and modifying what Sherman had done.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How do you think it's going?" Abby asked, fretting as she always did. "I mean, what if Tim can't do that stuff anymore? What if he has to quit? He'll be so upset!"

"No one has thought he would be unable to finish, Abby," Ziva said. "He is doing much better. We all know that."

"But today is the first day he's going back to the university!"

"Not the first time," Tony said. "He already dragged himself back there once and he was barely conscious at the time. He'll be fine. He's thinking straight and everything!"

"Yeah...maybe."

"I have a more important question."

"What's that?" Jimmy asked.

"How are we going to celebrate?"

"Celebrate what?" Ziva asked. "He is not back here yet. He is still recovering."

"We were going to make him party with us, and it wasn't a special occasion," Tony said. "What do we need a special occasion for? We just need to figure out when we're going to take him out."

"Does that not mean kill him?" Ziva asked with a grin. "I do not think we should celebrate that."

"Not this time," Tony said and then stuck out his tongue at Ziva.

"Very grown up of you, Tony."

"I try."

"So...what are we going to do, then?" Jimmy asked, pulling the conversation back on topic. "And will Tim really want to do anything like that?"

"Hang out with us? Absolutely!" Abby said. "Tim will be thrilled!"

"So thrilled that we're all sitting here trying to think up a good excuse to do something?" Jimmy asked and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't make me hit you, Black Lung," Tony said.

Jimmy laughed and raised his hands in self defense.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"And perhaps it is best that we think about it now," Ziva said. "I _am_ a little worried that McGee will say no simply because he feels a little awkward about his recovery. He was uncertain about letting me give him a ride to his therapy."

"All the more reason to make him hang out with us, then," Tony said. "We don't care about him tripping over a word or two. He's still five times smarter than I am."

"At least," Ziva said."

"Ha ha."

"How much notice are we going to give him?" Jimmy asked.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Abby asked.

"I think we should just have dinner like we were going to do before," Ziva said. "That will ease him back into things...like having fun with us."

"Okay, okay. We'll save the freaky stuff for when he gets his doctorate," Tony said. "Dinner will do...for now."

"So...where will we go?" Abby asked.

"Ah, a fun question!"

They all laughed and started to argue about where to go.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat back and rubbed at his eyes. His head was aching. He was as exhausted right now as he was after hours of physical therapy. He started to stand and his head started to spin in conjunction with the ache.

Too much at once, obviously. He eased himself back onto the chair and closed his eyes. He wasn't ready for this much work at a time.

So...how long was too long right now? Tim was almost afraid to find out. What would be an acceptable length of time to start? What if he couldn't manage this? What if–?

"Tim? Are you still in here?"

Tim opened his eyes and turned around.

"Hi, Roger."

"Wow. You're looking a little pale. I figured you'd just decided to go."

"How long have I been down here?"

"Four hours. Going on five."

Four hours? Wow. Where had all that time gone?

"Clearly, that's too much for you right now. Are you all right?"

Roger seemed genuinely concerned. Tim thought about how he felt. Worn out, definitely. But it wasn't anything like the disorientation he'd felt the last time he'd come here. He was just tired.

"Yeah. Tired, but I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. You feel up to chatting in my office for a couple of minutes before you leave?"

"Sure."

Tim got up slowly and was relieved to find that he didn't feel too dizzy. Roger let him take his time. They went back to his office and there was already someone inside.

"Sherman, Tim was still here after all," Roger said.

Sherman turned around and stood up.

"Tim! You're still looking a little pale, but it's great to see you on your own two feet. I know that I could have stopped by before, but I'm glad that you're doing better."

"Tim's been working down there for over four hours," Roger said.

"Really? I didn't realize."

"I didn't, either," Tim said, ruefully. "I'm not really ready for that. I'm dead on my feet."

"Then, sit down."

Tim sat down beside Sherman, relieved to be sitting down.

"Okay," Roger said. "We've been discussing the possibility of getting you back on schedule, Tim, and based on what you were doing today, it seems like a _good_ possibility."

"I can't do what I did today every day," Tim said, quickly. "Not yet."

"That's fine. You were already doing much more than I expected."

"What _did_ you do?" Sherman asked.

"I tweaked the coding you put in. It wasn't wrong!" Tim said quickly.

Sherman just laughed.

"I don't mind, Tim. It was something I did to fix what you said you wanted to fix. It wasn't supposed to be permanent."

"Good. I was really slow working on it. I...I lost my momentum, I think."

"No big surprise," Roger said.

"Yeah. I think it's...going to get better."

"Okay. Then, what you'll need to do is just figure out how much time you can _realistically_ put in. I think I speak for all of the faculty when I say that we really want you to be able to get this done."

"Absolutely," Sherman said. "When you're ready, we can meet and work out what still needs to be done."

"Okay."

"For now, though, Tim, I think you need to be done for the day," Roger said.

"I think so, too," Tim agreed. He got carefully to his feet.

"Actually, I'll give you a ride, Tim. You don't need to bother with a taxi."

"Oh, you don't have to, Sherman."

"I know. It'll save you some money."

Tim smiled. "Okay."

Sherman walked with Tim out of the building.

"I'll bet that this isn't anything like you've dealt with before," Tim said.

"Murder? Espionage? No, I have to say that it's nothing I've experienced. I'm okay with never having to go through it again," Sherman said.

"I don't, either."

"I'm sure."

There was a long silence as Sherman started driving off campus.

"Oh...I'm staying with my boss right now." He gave the address.

"Okay. I can get you there."

"Thanks."

Another long silence.

"I'm really sorry about all this, Tim."

"You didn't do it, Sherman."

"Yeah, I know, but I keep thinking about it and I can't help wondering."

Tim smiled. "No. I'm learning that wondering about what you can't change won't make anything better. In fact, it'll make it worse."

"You're probably right. Everyone is really excited about your being back. It's a way of making things normal again."

"Not quite normal."

"No...and they'll never be quite normal. I had my issues with Charles and I know you did, too, but he didn't deserve that. ...and you didn't, either. The whole thing was a mess. I'm just glad to see that you're getting through it."

"Thanks."

Another period of silence.

"Is this it?"

Tim looked out the window.

"Yeah. That's it. Thanks for the ride."

"Take it easy, Tim. You've got the time now."

"Yeah, I do. See you later, Sherman."

Tim went into Gibbs' house, sat down on the couch...and promptly fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Gibbs came home, he walked inside and saw Tim sacked out on the couch, snoring. Jethro was on the floor beside him.

Gibbs smiled.

It looked like Tim was learning to fill his day again.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

For the rest of the week, Tim spent a couple of hours working on his program, another hour hanging out with his fellow grad students, and then working on his therapy. In the evenings, he would occasionally have dinner with his NCIS friends. It gave him a new routine to follow as well as more confidence in what he could do. He didn't say anything to Gibbs about going to visit Eric and the week ended without Tim taking any kind of step in that direction.

Gibbs wasn't sure if that meant that Tim had given up on the idea, if he had forgotten about it for the moment, or if he was planning on sneaking out to go by himself. He _also_ wasn't sure if he should bring it up or if he should just let Tim do as he thought best.

After a day of thinking about it, Gibbs just decided to let Tim do as he would. ...for now. Let him get into that routine that helped him relax and not worry so much about what he could handle. Tim handled a lot more when he wasn't thinking about it.

However, after another week of nothing, Gibbs decided Tim might need another push. If he had changed his mind, that was fine, but if not...well, putting it off didn't generally help. He was glad to see Tim getting into a better head space, but he didn't want to leave it at that.

Tim was quiet as he ate dinner. He was always a little awkward during meals because, it seemed, that was the time when the fact that he was a guest in Gibbs' home really hit home.

"You haven't said anything about going to visit Eric," Gibbs said with no preamble.

It was bad timing. Tim was just taking a drink and he started coughing and sputtering. Gibbs waited until he could breathe again.

"Sorry, Tim."

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Did you decide not to go?"

"No," Tim said.

"You don't have to, you know. It's your decision."

"I know."

"So?"

Tim set down his glass and looked at his plate. He picked up his fork and started fiddling with it.

"Tim, what is it?"

"Am I making a mistake?"

"In what?"

Tim lifted his head.

"Was it a mistake that I decided to get my Ph.D.?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure where Tim was going with this or how it related to visiting Eric.

"Why are you asking?"

"I just...I was talking with Sherman and he was saying how he was sorry all this had happened...but...the...the stupid part of me can't stop wondering if it was me being there that caused this."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, reached out and gave Tim a light swat on the head. He didn't go all out. Tim's head wasn't ready for that yet.

The _thwack_ made Tim smile.

"I know it's stupid."

"Tim, you being there didn't control Eric's choices. He'd been doing this for _years_ before you got there. He killed Charles Ormond before you got into the room. It had nothing to do with you."

Tim looked up.

"Is it wrong of me to want to ask him about all this? Will it be worse for him?"

Gibbs took a deep breath.

"Tim...I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't care. If this will help you, that matters."

"I care...most of the time."

Gibbs smiled. "That's why you want to go...to straighten all that out, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then, stop waffling. What do you want?"

"I still need to go," Tim said finally.

"Right now?"

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim let out a whoosh of air as they pulled into the parking lot. Gibbs had pulled some strings to get them in today. Now, he was walking into the prison, toward the visiting area. He wasn't sure about this. For one thing, he was afraid of seeing what effect prison might be having on Eric. They had been friendly. Eric had tried to keep Charles off his back. ...and then, he had almost killed him.

Why?

That was the question that kept clawing at his brain, even as a part of him knew that it didn't really matter.

"You ready for this, McGee?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good. I'll wait out here. Do what you need to do."

Tim nodded. He walked into the prison, signed in, and was conducted to the visitors' room. He sat down and waited. He stared at the table and started picking at the gouges.

"Tim. I...I am...surprised to see you here."

Tim looked up and saw Eric in prison garb. It was hard to say which of them was more awkward.

"Hi," Tim said.

Eric sat down across from him.

"You look a lot better than you did before," Eric said.

"I'm feeling a lot better."

Another silence.

"Why did you come here?" Eric asked. "Did you want to gloat or something?"

"No."

"Then, why?"

"How is it going for you?" Tim asked.

"Could have been worse. That's what I tell myself every night. You gave me a lot more than I deserved."

"Yeah, I did."

Eric nodded in acceptance of that.

"Why did you come?"

"How could you do it, Eric?" Tim asked. "How could you steal from your own department? How could you kill Charles? How could you...almost kill me?"

"I convinced myself that it was how businesses worked," Eric said. "It's not a good reason. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway. I needed the money to keep going to school and there it was."

It was unsatisfying, but Tim knew that there wasn't a good reason.

"I know that panic isn't considered a legal reason for killing someone, but that's all I have. It really is. I'd been in the department for so long that...that it was like my home. It was like I was being told I was going to lose my home. He didn't hit me, but he was so close to me and was shouting at me and...and I just wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop shouting, stop threatening me...and so I hit him. I wish..." Eric stopped and stared at the table. "I can't tell you how many times I've wished that I hadn't grabbed that paperweight. I wish I hadn't killed him. Even with what I've got out of cooperating...that still doesn't change the fact that I'm a murderer...and I could have killed you, too. I thought I had. I tried to stop myself but it was too late. My brain caught up just too slow." He looked up. "Tim...I know that you have no reason to believe me. I know that there's...that I don't have the _right _to ask this of you. ...but do you think you could ever forgive me for what I did to you? If I...I just..." He looked down at the table again. "I can't ask Charles for forgiveness. I can't _be_ forgiven for taking a life."

Tim looked at Eric. His feelings were still very conflicted. Eric was clearly remorseful. There was no reason for him to act like this if he didn't feel it, and Tim would swear that he was sincere.

"Eric...right now...I can't. ...but at the same I can't hate you like I might have before. I believe that you're sorry. I really do. Right now, though...while I'm still trying to get my life back. Eric, even though I survived, if I hadn't been able to get my mind back...it would have been worse than dying. You can understand that, I hope."

"Yeah. I can," Eric said softly.

"So...I just...right now... It's too much to ask."

"I understand."

Tim wanted to end it there, but he couldn't. There was too much pain he could see in Eric that he didn't want to leave there. ...well, part of him did. Part of him wanted Eric to suffer as much as Tim himself had. ...but another part of him just wanted ease Eric's way because this was a man who had ruined his life already. Tim didn't need to make his life even worse.

"Maybe sometime...later... I think that I could maybe forgive you. Just not yet."

Eric lifted his head.

"Tim...I know that it's a lot to ask. I'm surprised that you're even considering it."

"This is part of why I wanted to come. I've been...in a lot of different minds...about this. Sometimes...I can't imagine why I would bother...but other times...I wish I could right now."

Eric nodded.

"Do you feel any better about all this now?" he asked.

"Maybe a little."

"I'm glad. You deserve to get everything back. I hope that you can because...even if it sounds stupid...I never wanted anything to happen to you, Tim. We were all cheering for you...and I still am, even if that doesn't mean much. I hope you finish."

"I will," Tim said, suddenly feeling as though there was no other possibility. He didn't know where that feeling came from, but it was nice to feel it.

"Rousseau, two minutes."

Eric looked toward the guard and nodded. He obviously hated the reminder of what his life was like now.

"Good luck with everything, Tim. Really, I hope that everything works out."

"Thanks. When I feel like I can...I'll come back."

"Thanks. I don't think I'll have many visitors. It's too weird for most people."

"Your family?"

"I...told them."

And they hadn't come. Tim felt the pity that the others had felt for him. Basically, Eric had nothing to show for his life up to this point because he'd given it all up. What did he have to look forward to, even when he got out?

"Time's up, Rousseau. Let's go."

Eric stood up. Tim did as well. He hesitated and then put out his hand.

"Good luck, Eric."

Eric looked in surprise down at Tim's hand and then back up at Tim. He hesitated and then shook Tim's hand.

"Thanks."

Eric walked out one door, and Tim walked out the other. He signed out and left the prison.

Gibbs was waiting for him. When Tim came out, he raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't know," Tim said.

"What don't you know?"

"Was this the best thing to do?"

"I don't know. Was it?"

Tim smiled. "I feel sorry for him."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"He killed a man and almost killed me...and yet...somehow...I feel sorry for him."

"Still nothing wrong with that."

"It's just that...I don't know. He asked if I could forgive him. I feel sorry for him. I don't hate him...but I can't forgive him."

"That's all right."

Tim laughed a little.

"Are you sure, Boss? Because...I'm just not... I don't know."

"Tim, you sat across from the man who almost killed you and you found out that you could feel sorry for him, that you don't hate him. Sounds like a good thing to me."

"Isn't it kind of...pitiful to feel sorry for your attacker?"

"No."

"Are you just trying to make me feel better?"

Gibbs gave him another light head slap. Tim found it interesting that Gibbs was back to the head slaps but was so gentle about it.

"No. I'm not. I never just make people feel better."

Tim laughed.

"I wish there was some way to make this right for everyone."

"It's impossible."

"I know. I just...wish that I could. There's so much that went wrong."

"You can't change that, but you know what you _can_ do?"

"What?"

"Get back to your own life. That will be making something right."

"Yeah. When I was talking to him...for some reason...I felt like I _could_ get back to my life. Maybe it was just seeing that he couldn't ...maybe I just realized that I had so much...going for me. I don't know what it was, but I really felt like I could."

"Sounds like it was a good thing you went."

Gibbs got in the car and Tim walked around to the passenger side.

"I guess it was."

He got in the car and they went back to Gibbs' house.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

After a few weeks, Tim was making a lot of progress on his therapy and was still working on his program. He started to hint that he might be ready to go back to his own place again, and maybe come back to work in a limited fashion. Gibbs decided to sit him down and talk about it. Even though it wasn't really his job or his responsibility, he didn't want Tim to start pushing himself too fast again.

"I'm doing a lot better, Boss. It couldn't be back to normal yet, but..."

"McGee...have you thought about just waiting until you're done with your Ph.D. before going back to NCIS?"

"I don't want to give up one thing for the other!" Tim said.

"You're not. You'll still have your job. You're not ready to be out in the field yet, anyway."

"But I could sit at my desk," Tim said, looking almost distressed at the suggestion.

Gibbs laughed.

"Yeah, you could, or you could take the time to finish one thing instead of trying to do two things that you almost didn't manage when you were at your best."

Tim dropped his head.

"Tim, it's not because you can't do them both. Just stop trying to do them both at the same time."

"I was doing it before."

"Barely. Ducky told me that you had asked about falling asleep because you were too tired. You stopped driving your car because you were afraid of getting in an accident! You're not fully recovered yet, Tim. It's okay to take some extra time."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Tim said softly.

"What is?"

"That I'm not better yet."

"Tim, we've already talked about this a lot."

Tim, to his credit, did smile.

"I know, and in my better moments...it's...I know. There's no reason to think it. I'm still getting better, but I don't like that I have to keep waiting. It just makes me nervous...when I think about it too much, and I don't want to. I just do."

"Tim, you have the chance to do it right instead of all at once. You can't handle it all at once right now. So don't bother with it. Just do what you can."

"But what if it takes too long?" Tim asked.

Gibbs shook his head.

"It won't."

"What if it does?" Tim persisted.

_Thwack!_

The head slap was pretty light still.

"It won't, McGee. Vance understands. He gets reports on your progress, and he likes the idea of having an agent with a doctorate. You'll be fine."

"Do you mind if I go back to my own apartment?"

"Do you think I should?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tim laughed a little.

"I guess not. I'm not used to...making all the decisions myself anymore, I guess."

"And your decision is?"

"To go back home. I'm feeling a lot better. I'm thinking straight. I don't...stumble over my words as much. I'm not driving yet, but...but I'm doing a lot better. I think."

Gibbs smiled. Tim sounded uncertain, but he _was_ trying to make his own decision, and even if Gibbs himself felt a little ambivalent about it, he didn't want Tim feeling like all his decisions were suspect.

"You want it?"

"No offense, Boss, but...this still feels kind of awkward."

Gibbs chuckled and nodded.

"Then, you should go back home. ...but if I hear that you've started driving before you're cleared..."

"No way, Boss. I'd never do that."

"Good. Then, feel free to go whenever you're ready."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim ended up staying for the rest of the week and then, with a lift from Gibbs, he and Jethro went back to Tim's apartment.

Tim didn't know it, but there were plots going on all around him. What had initially just been an idea about hanging out with him had somehow turned into a party. The problem was deciding what they were going to celebrate. Tim had too many different significant things going on. Was the right time to celebrate when he finished his Ph.D.? When he came back to work? When he was officially declared healed? Sure, they could celebrate all of it, but at the same time, there was something to having a big celebration. It was just a matter of figuring out what should be celebrated the most.

Tim didn't know about any of that. He just slowly slid into another routine. He started taking transit to campus, and he'd work there for a couple of hours, hang out for a couple of hours and then go to his physical therapy and then to his regular therapy. Sometimes, someone from NCIS would come and pick him up and take him home. Regardless, over the next few months, Tim had a routine that helped him forget to worry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was winter semester, the year just getting started. Tim had been struggling with finishing his project. Finally, he set the program running and then left it to see how far it would go before breaking again. He headed up to the common room to see who was around.

"Hey, Tim. Finished?" Lancer asked.

Tim smiled a little. Lancer had made a habit of sticking around and seeing how Tim was doing. It wasn't extreme, but it was consistent.

"Not yet. I just set a test run going. We'll see how many more bugs I need to fix. Anyone else around?"

"Arnold is in the common room, but he's probably about the only one."

"You guys want to grab something for lunch? I need a break. My brain is starting to protest."

"You don't think you'll need your brain to talk to us?" Lancer asked. "That's not saying much for us, is it."

Tim laughed as they walked to the common room.

"Hey, Arnold, do you want to take a lunch break?" he asked.

Arnold looked up from a pile of assignments he was grading. He was acting as a TA under the professor who'd been hired to take Charles' place.

"Yes," he said fervently. "I am so tired of reading these things. I'd rather just fail them all."

"Do they deserve it?" Tim asked.

"Yes...because even the good ones have atrocious handwriting. Why did they hire someone who still prefers hardcopy?"

"To make your life miserable," Lancer said. "Besides, he's a good professor, and you know it."

Arnold sat up and stretched.

"Yeah, but still. Where are we going?"

"Oh, let's just walk and find a place," Tim said. "I've been down in the basement for hours. Even though it's cold, I need to get _out_."

They headed out together, and Tim took a deep breath when they got into the open air. He also relished the ability to walk without feeling like he was going to fall over. He still had dizzy spells sometimes, and the occasional headaches might end up being a constant in his life, but he was walking and thinking clearly. Both were things that he couldn't have managed a few months ago.

They headed to J Street, each chose a place to buy some food and then sat down at a table. They chatted about Lancer's and Arnold's projects...since they weren't classified and Tim's was.

"But I think I'm on track to finish this next year," Arnold finished.

"That's great. How did your presentation go at the conference?" Tim asked.

"Okay. Joan told me that I need to work on my delivery, that I need to stop acting like I'm terrified to be up there in front of people."

"Are you?" Tim asked.

"Yes!" Arnold said. "I hate having to present. I went into computer science because I didn't _want_ to be presenting to people. I want to be the weird, stereotypical nerd who hides in basements or back rooms and is kept away from people because he's so strange."

Tim and Lancer both laughed.

"Not me. I never wanted that," Tim said.

"I never would have guessed, given that you're a cop," Lancer said.

Tim smiled. "Yeah, pretty obvious, huh."

"It can be so dangerous, though," Arnold said. "Aren't you worried about going back?"

"I'm worried about a lot of things, but that's not one of them," Tim said, happy to note that he was being completely honest about it. "NCIS has always been what I wanted. Sometimes, I don't feel like I really fit in, but it's what I want, and as soon as I'm done here, I'll be going back there. It's taken longer than I wanted, but I'm glad that I was forced to take the time to do it in order, rather than concurrently."

Arnold nodded a little.

"Besides, the only place I've ever been hurt was in grad school, not as a cop," Tim said with a grin.

"Yeah."

Tim could see that the two students he owed his life to were still bothered by what they had seen. He didn't blame them. It was a difficult thing.

"Hey, thanks, you guys. I still have a life because you were there when it mattered. It's something I can't thank you enough for."

"I didn't do anything, Tim," Arnold said. "I just threw up."

"You were there, and I needed someone to be there. You had to see something that would have bothered _me_."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The first time I had to watch an autopsy, I threw up. The first case I worked on, I nearly threw up. I'm not great with gory scenes, and what you saw...especially because you knew both of us. It's harder when you know them."

"Yeah. A _lot_ harder," Lancer said.

"Have you still had problems?" Tim asked.

Lancer nodded. "Not so much since I started talking to the therapist, but... I can't get rid of what I saw and felt."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that," Tim said. "But I'm glad you were there."

"Actually...so am I. Maybe it was just meant to be. Hard, yes...but worth it."

"Oh, yeah," Arnold said. "I hate it, but still, if I have to choose between seeing it and you being dead...I'll take seeing it."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Tim said. "I do, too."

Arnold laughed.

"Have you seen Eric at all?" Lancer asked.

"Yeah, I have. I went and visited him at the prison."

"Why?" Arnold asked.

"Because I needed to hear what he had to say...and I wish I didn't, but I feel sorry for him."

"He almost killed you," Arnold said.

"Yeah, I know. I don't know if I forgive him for that yet, but I feel sorry for what he did to himself. He ruined his life, and I don't have it in me to hate him, even if I can't forgive him."

"I'm surprised...and I'm impressed," Lancer said.

Tim shrugged. "I don't remember everything. In my head, it's still a blank spot where I actually got attacked. I remember him being there, but I don't remember him hitting me. Maybe if I did, I wouldn't be so nice about it."

"I'll bet you still would."

"Thankfully, I won't have to go through it again and find out."

They finished eating and headed back to the department. Tim went down to the basement to see how his program had fared. He sat down and started checking it out.

He was shocked to see that it had all worked. The program had run through to completion without any glitches, at least no glitches that stopped it running. He'd got it to work before, but it had been clunky. Now, it was pretty finessed. He might find some minor bugs, but it was working! It was longer than he'd hoped, but the fact that he was finishing it at all was amazing. He had almost given up on the possibility when it was giving him so many troubles because of how hard it was with his mind working slowly. Somehow, though, the slower pace had helped him...as had the fact that he was _only_ working on his program. He hadn't liked it, but he had to admit that Gibbs was right. He had needed it.

For now, though, he decided to show what he'd managed to do to Sherman and get his feedback on how much more he would need to do in order to be finished.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

_One month later..._

Sherman was careful in his examination of Tim's program. He said nothing and Tim stood behind him, worrying at a fingernail while he waited. What if there was a bug that he'd missed? What if it was a fluke that everything had worked the ten times he'd run it before telling Sherman he was ready for a review of its capabilities? What if the test run was dead on arrival? Never mind the fact that if it _had _been DOA, Sherman would already be done. He was nervous.

It went on and on, seeming to take forever. Finally, Sherman sat back from the computer and started making notes.

Except for the hum of the machinery and computers in the room, it was silent. Tim really wanted to break that silence and beg Sherman to tell him what he thought, but he was trying to be patient. This was what a doctorate built up to. One single project that would let you get your degree...or not. One project that had to meet the approval of three people, plus the outsiders who also had to approve it. It was stressful to say the least, and Tim was, again, glad that he had listened to Gibbs and finished this first.

"Okay, Tim. I won't leave you in suspense. Have a seat."

Tim sat down.

"Okay. What?"

Sherman chuckled.

"Relax."

"Just tell me, Sherman," Tim said. "Then, I'll know how to react. Telling me to relax right now isn't going to happen."

"All right. There are some bugs in it, as you would expect at this stage, but, Tim, I have to say that I'm _very_ impressed with your work. It took a little longer than you wanted it to, I know, and you'll need to fix the bugs before you submit, but I don't see any reason to hold you back a lot longer, definitely not another year. Maybe a month or two at most."

Tim's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really. I'll want to go through the coding a little more in-depth than I did here. It might take a few days, and I'll show it to Roger and Jaye as well. I'll give you a list of things you'll need to fix before you submit it officially. We'll have to set things up so that you can defend without breaking confidentiality, of course. Your external already knows about that restriction and it won't be an issue since he does work for the NSA. For now, I have something I'd like you to do."

"What?" Tim asked, still reeling a little from the idea that his project was actually good.

"Take a break."

"Huh?"

Sherman laughed.

"I said that you should take a break. It will be at least a week before I'm ready to give you the list. All you have to do is wait. So take a break. Go on a little vacation. Have some down time. I know you're still having therapy and I know that you have some things you struggle with in keeping your focus on the task. This means that you can give your brain a break. Relax, take a breath, whatever."

"A week?"

"At least. But you can be secure in the knowledge that you're at the end of the road and you're going to make it."

Tim smiled. "I...almost can't believe that I'm hearing it. It's...like...a dream."

"It's not a dream. It's real, and that should let you relax."

"Okay. I think I can."

"Good. Go do it. Now. Get out of here."

"Will do."

Tim left the basement and let out a relieved breath. He felt like he hadn't taken a deep breath since he'd told Sherman he was ready for the program to be evaluated. He walked out of the department. He could have gone up and told his friends about the good news, but he wanted to wait to tell them. Right now, there were other people he wanted to tell.

The ones who had been in his corner for a long time in their own unique ways.

He pulled out his phone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, so what's up, Boss?" Tony asked.

Gibbs didn't say anything in reply. He figured that Tim was going to tell them that he was done, but that should be something he got to say. Gibbs wasn't going to steal his thunder.

"I'm all excited now, Gibbs!" Abby said. "What's up?"

Gibbs just smiled.

"Gibbs!" Abby protested. "You can't lapse back into being mute again! Not now!"

Ziva was sitting, almost primly. Gibbs had said to wait and she was going to demonstrate how waiting was done, providing a stark contrast to Abby and Tony who were interested and curious and not afraid to say so.

Ducky and Jimmy were simply waiting, secure in knowing that they'd eventually be told.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Tim got off and hurried over, just shy of running. It was the first time he'd been back at NCIS since the night of the attack, but his excitement wasn't because of that.

"Hey! McGee! You're back!" Tony said, happily.

Tim shook his head.

"No. Not yet, Tony, but...you'll never guess."

"You're done!" Abby guessed.

"Well...almost."

"What does _that_ mean?" Ziva asked, furrowing her brow.

"Sherman is going over the program and he'll give me a list of bugs to fix next week, but he says that as soon as I do that I'll be ready to defend!"

"So...you're _not_ done," Tony said.

"But I'm so close now!"

"But you're not done!"

Tim sighed in exasperation.

"Tony, these are small things I have left to do. The program works! It just has a few bugs in it! Most of the work is done. All that's left, really, is jumping through hoops! It'll only be a month or so." Tim almost scowled. "I thought you'd all be happy for me."

"We are, Timothy," Ducky said. "I think that I can speak for most of the people in this room in stating that we did not realize how many steps were involved in getting your degree. Since you say that this step is a cause for celebration, then I will offer my congratulations."

Tim seemed a little deflated by the lack of enthusiasm in the room, but he still mustered a smile and allowed Ducky to shake his hand. Abby hugged him and there were more congratulations, but it was clear that Tim thought he'd had great news and that he hadn't had the reaction he'd expected.

"So what now?" Tony asked.

"Now, I wait. Sherman told me to take it easy for the next week while he goes through everything."

"Now, _that_ is something to celebrate!"

Tim laughed, regaining some of his good humor.

"What are you going to do?" Jimmy asked.

"I thought I'd go home for a few days. I haven't spent much time with my family since I started working on the program again. Maybe I'll sleep in. Haven't done that in a while."

"Party, Probie! You need to party!"

"No," Tim said. "I'm not interested in partying right now. Like you said, I'm not really done yet. I was just excited because this is the biggest step that I had to take. The rest of it will be so much easier than what I've been doing so far. Anyway...I guess I'll head home now. See you guys later."

Tim left fairly quickly.

"Oops," Tony said. "I think McGee was a bit miffed at us."

"He probably should be," Ziva said. "We should have known more about what would be required. I thought he was just done and that was it."

"Me, too," Tony said. "How many steps _are_ there?"

"From what he said, at least two," Abby said. "He has to fix whatever bugs Sherman tells him about, and he has to do the defense. Oh, wait, three, because he'll have to fix whatever the defense committee finds, too."

"So...he'll be done about four or five times before he's actually done."

Ducky chuckled. "That seems to be the case. If you're still planning on surprising him with a celebration, you should probably wait until the very end...or perhaps after he finishes his defense. That might be the best option."

"I think you're right," Abby said. "We should also make sure we're happier for him next time."

"Ya think?" Gibbs said, raising an eyebrow.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim went home and let himself into his apartment. Jethro started leaping all over him as soon as he opened the door.

"Hey, Jethro," he said. "Guess what? I'm almost done. Are _you_ happy for me?"

Jethro was thrilled. ...or at least, he was thrilled at having Tim home sooner than usual. Tim chose to think it was because he was happy at Tim's success.

"Okay. We'll celebrate by going to the park. I'll even let you chase the pigeons to your heart's content."

Jethro jumped around even more enthusiastically. He understood _park_ even if he didn't understand anything else. Tim smiled at his antics and changed his clothes quickly. It was so nice to have the energy to take Jethro out for a run rather than being worn out by sitting in front of a computer all day. He still was getting back to full form, but his physical therapist had told him that going to the park with Jethro was a good way to get some exercise that wouldn't be too much.

He took Jethro to the park and watched him chase the pigeons for almost an hour before finally calling him back. When he got back, he called home and arranged to visit. He wasn't allowed to drive still, but his mother decided to drive to DC and pick him up. The next day, he went to Ohio, after dropping Jethro at a kennel. He spent a few days there, basically lazing around. It was nice to have his mom doting on him and to talk with his dad about literature. He enjoyed his time there, but when it was time to head back to DC, he ran into a problem. Naomi had two men who couldn't drive, and Sam suddenly needed to make a trek in the opposite direction Tim needed to go. So, Tim had to decide who he was going to call for a ride. Sure, he could probably take a bus, but he didn't want to if he didn't have to. Greyhound wasn't exactly _fun_.

He didn't think he could take Abby's exuberance for hours on end. He didn't want to ride in Ducky's old car. Ziva's driving would terrify him...as would Gibbs'. He didn't want to take Jimmy away from Breena...but if she came along, it would be weird. That left Tony. He could ask one of his grad school friends, but they were all in the middle of a semester. All in all, Tony was the best bet, even if Tony had the extraordinary power to drive Tim absolutely bonkers one second and shock him with sincerity in another.

So he swallowed his pride and called Tony.

"_Probie! How's Ohio?"_

Tim grimaced. Tony sounded too eager.

"Fine. I have a favor to ask."

"_Oh...really?"_

Way too eager.

"You know that I can't drive yet."

"_Yeah."_

"My mom has to drive my dad to New York and I need to get down to DC. It's a long drive, but could you give me a ride?"

"_A ride? You're asking _me_ for a ride?"_

"Against my better judgment," Tim said darkly.

"_Hey, you want a ride or not, McInvalid?_

"I'm not an invalid. I just can't drive until I'm cleared by my doctor."

"_Because?"_

"Will you give me a ride or not, Tony?" Tim asked.

"_You know I will, Probie."_

"It's a long drive for you, and you know that I won't be allowed to spell you at all."

"_I know. Are you trying to talk me out of it, now?"_

Tim laughed.

"No. Just making sure that you know what you're getting into."

"_I know. Do you?"_

"I'm getting an idea."

"_Since we're now on the same page, when do you want me there?"_

"Well, I need to be back in DC for a meeting with Sherman on Monday. Otherwise, it's really up to you. You're driving; so I'll go along with whatever timetable you want."

"_Even if I chose the middle of the night?"_

"If you want, then, you'll have to deal with my snoring."

"_If you put it that way... I'll be there Sunday afternoon."_

"Thanks, Tony."

"_I'll make sure you express your gratitude appropriately."_

"That sounds like a threat. Should I take the Greyhound instead?"

"_Nope. Too late. I'm giving you a ride. You'll just have to grin and bear it."_

Tim hoped that he could.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony showed up around two on Sunday afternoon. Tim's parents had already left and Tim had just been waiting alone for Tony to come. They loaded up and left. The first couple of hours were generally silent. They talked a little bit, but neither had much to say. Mostly, they listened to the radio.

"Hey, McGee, I'm sorry that we weren't more...excited about your little announcement."

Tim shook his head. "It's okay. I was a little irritated, but I probably should have waited until I was actually done to tell you guys about it."

"Why were _you_ so excited?" Tony asked. "I mean, we figured that you have at least five times that you're done before you're _done_."

"Because...after so much work and no definite end planned out...to have a defined timetable...it feels so good. And...I've really been wondering if I could do it. I've been wondering if it would be too much for me, especially because I couldn't do everything at once again."

"You don't need to do everything at once. You probably shouldn't have been before, you know."

"Whether I should have been before or not, I can't do it now. I just hope that...in the future, I'll be able to do more than I can now. I'm actually a little worried about that."

"Because you can't do everything?" Tony asked, sounding surprised. "Welcome to the rest of the world, McGee. Most people can't handle doing everything at once. Some of us do well to get _one_ thing at a time done."

"Maybe."

"No, McGee. Not maybe. You apparently wrote a program almost from nothing and in a couple of years you got it done! That's pretty amazing whether you were running around like a headless chicken or not."

"I guess. I still struggle, Tony," Tim finally admitted. "I have days where I just can't get my mind in gear. It's kind of scary."

"What do your doctors say?"

"That it'll take time. Even when I come back to NCIS, I'll be on desk duty for a while. Physically, I'm probably as good as I'm going to get, but mentally...no one knows for sure, and being distracted...that's not really a good thing in an agent."

"Oh, I manage it all the time, Probie."

Tim shook his head.

"No, Tony. It's not that simple."

"Okay, I'll be serious. You'll be fine, McGee!" Tony said. "It hasn't even been a year since you had a close encounter with both a paperweight _and_ a desk! You're still trying to get back to full form? That doesn't surprise me, and I don't think that you should focus so much on whether or not you're..._better_. Just...live your life and if you don't stress you'll be happier."

Tim laughed. "Even when you're serious..."

"I know. I'm not serious, but I'm sincere. That counts for something, right?"

"Yeah. It does. I wasn't going to say anything about it, but you asked...and...out it came."

"Hey, if it's bugging you, I'm glad you did. You're almost there, McGee, and we'll be thrilled to have you back at NCIS, even at your desk."

"I'll be glad to be back there, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Did you think I was suddenly going to become an academic?" Tim asked.

"We were wondering. You've enjoyed so much of it."

"That's because there's always more to learn, Tony. I love to learn, and it's been great getting so many new skills...but that's so that I can do my job at NCIS better. It's not so that I can become a professor. I'm just not interested in that, not with the life I have. The life I have is the one I chose and I don't want to give that up. So...whether you like it or not, I'm coming back."

"Right on, McGee," Tony said.

He held out his fist. Tim hesitated and then did the fist bump. Tony did the explosion motion and Tim copied him...somehow _not_ feeling like an idiot.

As if that conversation had removed some kind of awkward wall, Tim and Tony talked easily, if not volatilely at times, all the way back to DC. Tony dropped Tim off at his apartment and made him promise to tell them when his defense was so that they could make him regret it. Tim wasn't sure what that meant, but he tried to forestall it by saying he didn't need a party. Tony's grin was not comforting.

...but Tim still felt a lot better when he went into his apartment.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Tim met with Sherman and got the list of bugs to fix. He then spent the next month on it. Then, another analysis by Sherman. Then, Roger and Jaye looked it over. They had a couple of bugs for Tim to fix. He worked on them and got that fixed. Then, the external analyzed the program and gave Tim more bugs to fix.

Finally. _Finally_, Tim got the go ahead to schedule his defense.

...and his stomach tied in knots.

He knew that this part was really mostly a formality, unless someone tried to sabotage him...but still...

He told Gibbs the date of his defense and asked him to tell everyone else. He didn't want to deal with the stress of perhaps getting a less enthusiastic reaction as he had before.

On the day of his defense, Tim woke up very early. He knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep; so he just decided to get up and get ready. Jethro was thrilled to get out of the house and play in the park. It was early enough that Tim could give him a nice long run.

When they got back, Tim ate breakfast, showered, gathered up all his notes and then took a deep breath and left the apartment. The ride to campus took no time at all. He walked into the building and up to the office.

"Tim, you're early!" Sherman said.

Tim turned.

"I woke up early."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah."

"Don't be. You know all this stuff backwards and forwards. You're going to be fine. We can't start early because your external won't be here early. So relax for a little while.

"I'll try," Tim said.

"Right. I have to get some things ready, but I'll see you in an hour."

Tim nodded. Sherman went to his office and Tim started to wander around the department. This place had taken so much of his life...had almost taken his life away in actuality. Now, he was getting ready to finish it up here, and he had mixed feelings about it if he were honest. He walked over to what had been Charles' office. Now, it belonged to the new professor, Iran Miller. He was an old-school professor and he had fit into the faculty quite easily. In fact, having him come was a distinct relief.

"Did you need something, Tim?"

Tim jumped and looked back over his shoulder.

"Oh...no, Professor. I was...thinking."

"Have you been back in here since what happened?"

"Well...once, but I wasn't really in my right mind at the time. Not since then."

Iran walked by him and opened the door.

"Come on in."

Tim felt like he didn't have much of a choice. He wouldn't have gone in there, but he'd made it seem like that was what he wanted. So he followed Iran in. Some of it was still the same, of course. There were only so many ways to display books, but the smaller touches were very different. Iran was from Israel originally and that was reflected in the decor. He also was obsessively organized.

"It's not the same place it was," Tim said. "It looks totally different."

"That's good. I was a little leery about having an office in a murder scene."

"Yeah, I don't blame you." Tim's eyes were drawn to the floor where he knew he had lost some blood. "I've had a problem with coming by here, but I'm defending this morning. I wanted to at least look at it."

"Oh, this morning is your defense? Congratulations, Tim. I know that I haven't seen as much of you, but I've heard a lot about you and what you've done. It's great that you've got this far."

"Thanks."

"This is one of the most interesting situations I've ever come into. It's something, I'm sure, you aren't seeing as interesting."

"No, not really."

"Understandable. Anything else you need in here?"

Tim smiled. "No. Not at all. Thanks for letting me in."

"My pleasure. Good luck on your defense, not that I think you'll need it."

"Thanks."

Tim let himself out and walked back to the office. He saw a few students who stopped and talked to him, but mostly, he was just waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Then, Sherman opened the door.

"Tim, are you ready?"

Tim cleared his throat.

"I guess it's too late to run?"

"Years too late. You're not allowed to run now."

Tim laughed.

"Okay."

He followed Sherman into the conference room and faced his defense committee.

"Welcome, Tim. Let's get started. Why don't you make your presentation and we'll go from there."

"Okay." Tim took one more breath. This was stuff he knew. He had built this program himself. The coding was his. He sometimes got a little tongue-tied, but this was _his_ project. It was time to be done. "Okay...my approach was pretty simple. I looked at the weaknesses in the existing program and started from that point. The biggest challenge was..."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two hours later..._

Tim walked out of the office and, when the door closed, he let out a whoosh of air. For good or ill, it was done. He sat down and started fidgeting.

"Tim! You're finished?" Lancer asked.

Tim nodded. "They're in there talking about it now."

"How did it go?"

"I think it went all right. I'm just waiting to see if they agree with me."

"I'll bet they do."

"They'd better. I can't start over."

The door opened.

"Tim? Come on back in."

Tim raised his eyebrows and Lancer and then headed inside.

"Okay. We've gone through everything that you've done," Sherman said. "Overall, we were all impressed with your work."

"Thank you," Tim said with a smile. "But I'm sure there are things you need me to fix."

"Not too much, actually. A few small things."

"How small?"

The external leaned forward.

"Would you like to come and work for the NSA?"

"Uh...what?" Tim asked.

"That's how small. If you're interested, we could definitely use you."

Tim gulped.

"Uh...I have a job already."

"I know."

"Thank you...but...I...have a job."

The external chuckled.

"Your degree is not contingent upon your accepting my job offer."

"Good," Tim said.

The others laughed.

"The short version, of course, is that you passed your defense," Sherman said. "You were successful. You'll get a list of the things you'll need to fix in the next few days, but I can tell you it won't be a long list."

Tim felt his insides start sinking into his shoes and then suddenly leap up into his throat. He wanted to start dancing, but he just smiled.

"Great!"

Things moved at a shocking pace after that. There were forms to fill out, but first, Tim went out to lunch with his defense committee. Then, he and Sherman went around and got everything else filled out that needed to be filled out. Then, they turned in the forms. Then, the other grad students descended upon him and took him out for a celebratory drink. Then, suddenly, it was done. Tim was left standing outside the department his head in the clouds, his mind whirling, and his schedule suddenly extremely open. So much of his life had been consumed by working on his Ph.D. Now, for all intents and purposes, he was done. ...but not exactly. He still had one more hoop to jump through.

_But I'm done. I'm done. I'm done._

Tim decided to go home. He walked into his apartment, fended off Jethro, looked around and got a goofy grin on his face. He jumped up in the air, pumped his fist and shouted.

"I'M DONE!"

And, boy, did that feel good.

Maybe _now_ he could start telling people about it...


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

"Did anyone warn Tim that this was coming?" Abby asked as they approached Tim's apartment.

"I mentioned it once," Tony said.

"That's it?"

"We wanted it to be a surprise! We can't keep telling Tim about it without ruining the surprise."

"But what if he's having one of his headache days?" Abby asked. "It happens more often in the evening and with everything he did today..."

"If it won't work out, it won't work out. We can do it another day, but we're going to celebrate this. He passed his defense and that's a big deal."

"He still has things to fix."

"Fix, schmix," Tony said. "McGee probably has to make things flashy. I'll bet everything works and whatever stuff he has to fix will take him two seconds."

"So...if you're wrong?"

"We still get a great party, and Tim _owes_ us."

"He's gone out with us before."

"But not to celebrate, and that's what we're doing," Tony said. He was determined to make up for the lackluster showing of the last time Tim had given them momentous news. "His family will be here when he celebrates graduating. We need to give him a big party to celebrate the defense stuff."

He knocked on the door, and it opened almost instantly. Tim was standing there with a quizzical smile on his face.

"See? He was _waiting_ for us to come!" Tony said.

"Actually, you two aren't very quiet and I could hear you through the door. What's going on?"

Tim was dressed in sweats. His feet were bare. In essence, he did _not_ look ready to go out.

"Do you want to come in?" he asked.

"Only long enough for you to change your clothes and go out with us!" Tony announced.

"Out? Why?"

"To celebrate!" Abby said.

"Celebrate what?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your defense!" Tony said.

"What if I was already celebrating?" Tim asked.

"You wouldn't be dressed like that," Abby said.

"I would be if I wasn't planning on going _out_. There are other ways of celebrating."

"Are you going to pretend you have a girl in there?" Tony asked. "Because I don't believe you."

"Why not, Tony? I think I'm suave enough to be charming in sweats. Maybe _you_ need a lot of frills, but I don't think I do."

"Do you have a girl in there?" Tony asked.

"Maybe."

"You never had a girl in here. You wouldn't be standing by the door listening to us if you had a girl," Tony said.

"How would you know?"

Finally, Tony saw the twinkle in Tim's eye as he continued to razz them, probably a kind of payback for their lackluster response to his big news before. He started laughing and Tim followed suit.

"No, I don't have a girl in here, but I _could_ have. You should have called first."

He stood aside and let them in.

"Do you have a headache, Tim?" Abby asked. "Because we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"Actually, no. I did a little celebrating and then I took a nap. I'm feeling fine."

"You took a _nap_?" Tony repeated.

Tim looked a Tony in surprise.

"Tony, a few months ago, I got my head bashed in and I almost died. Since then, I've got back to the point where I managed to finish creating a security program almost from scratch and I've all but finished my doctorate. I think I'm entitled to a nap or two if I feel the need."

"Sorry. This isn't as celebratory as I'd hoped."

Tim just laughed.

"I'm more than happy to celebrate as long as you're not planning on taking me to a club or something like that. Loud, heavy beats _would_ bring on a headache."

"Nope. Nothing like that, Probie," Tony said, feeling better. "We knew you wouldn't want that; so we didn't."

"Against my better judgment," Abby said. "_I _wanted to make you do something really amazing like jump off a trapeze or something...but they wouldn't let me."

Tim looked at Tony.

"Thank you. Really. Thank you, Tony."

Tony laughed.

"You owe me, Probie."

"I guess I have to change, then," Tim said with a smile. He went back into his room.

"I don't think I've seen Tim this...playful...maybe _ever_," Abby said. "He's obviously really happy."

"He's going to have only 24 hours' worth of work to do instead of 48 hours' worth in a day. He's probably giddy with anticipation," Tony said.

Tim came out in another minute and looking more ready to be in public. Just jeans and a jacket over his t-shirt, but he put on shoes, too.

"Okay, I'm ready. Where are we going?"

"You'll have to wait and see," Tony said.

"Lay on, MacDuff."

"Oh, you might regret saying that, Tim," Abby said with a grin.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim felt that he was hiding his glee pretty well. He was feeling absolutely over the moon that things had turned out so well, but he was tempering his own happiness just in case. Teasing Tony had been fun, but more than that, he was just happy and that brought out his mischievous nature...that he didn't usually let out in company.

As he let Tony and Abby take him wherever they were going, Tim just couldn't help smiling.

They got onto a familiar street and Tim chuckled.

"This is your big party?" he asked.

"I didn't say it was big," Tony said.

"It's the important stuff," Abby said. "And the important people...well, except for your family. They're not here."

Tony pulled up in front of Gibbs' house.

"We figured you'd have more fun if you weren't worried about the noise, Probie. Were we wrong?"

Tim shook his head. "No. I have no complaints. Is there a grill in the future?"

"Not for you. We're saving it for the meat," Tony said as he pulled the car to a stop.

"Oh, good."

They walked to the backyard and Tim was greeted by Ziva, Ducky, Jimmy, and Gibbs. It was his NCIS crew. He'd already celebrated once with his school friends. Here were his work friends, and his family was going to celebrate with him when he got hooded.

Ducky was the first to approach. He hugged Tim, gave him a hearty thump on the back.

"Congratulations, Dr. McGee!" Ducky said. "I believe that we can call you that now, even if you don't have the actual piece of paper in hand as yet."

Tim grinned.

"Yes. You can call me that. I won't require it, though."

"Dr. McGeek!" Tony said. "I hadn't realized!"

"Congratulations, Tim," Ziva said and kissed Tim on the cheek.

Tim blushed red but he still couldn't stop smiling.

"Thanks, Ziva."

There were lots of congratulations going around and Tim was quite all right with that. Eventually, that faded and they sat down to eat. Gibbs had been grilling for a while before Tim got there apparently and there was plenty of food to go around. After a while, the conversation turned to the defense itself.

"So...how did it go?" Abby asked. "Obviously, you passed, but..."

"Well, I was really nervous when I first got in there. Sherman helped me get started, and once I was just talking, I was fine. I had to make a presentation and then I had to demonstrate how the program worked and then there were questions. Every member had a few. They weren't too bad. Then, I had to sit outside the room while they talked about it. I waited for a while and then they brought me back in and told me I'd passed."

"So fast?"

"Well, three of the people in the room already knew how the program worked. Only two weren't familiar with it well in advance. Unless the external really didn't want me to pass, I was going to pass."

"What kind of things did they tell you to fix?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, I don't have the whole list yet, but Sherman said that there wouldn't be too many."

"Any surprises?" Abby asked.

"Actually, yeah. The NSA guy who was my external...he offered me a job."

"What?"

Tim smiled. He couldn't even tell who asked the question. He kind of thought they all had at once.

"You'd better not have accepted," Abby said, darkly. "I know where you live."

"Guys, have you not listened to me at all during these last few years? I was never getting my Ph.D. because I wanted a new job. I just wanted to be better at my job and learn new things. He asked. I said no. It wasn't even a temptation."

"Not at all?" Gibbs asked.

"No. Not at all," Tim said honestly. "I've never wanted to leave NCIS. NCIS is my dream job and it's all I've ever wanted. I love NCIS. I love working there. I have friends there. I don't want to leave. Why would you think that I'd want to leave?"

"Because we can see the value in you, Timothy," Ducky said, soothingly. "We know that you could go anywhere and that people would value your skills."

"But I don't _want _to leave!"

Abby hugged him tightly.

"We don't want you to leave, either!"

"Then, stop asking if I am," Tim said, smiling again. "You might give me some bad ideas."

"And besides, we're supposed to be celebrating having a thoroughly overeducated man in our midst," Tony said. "That calls for a toast!"

He lifted his glass and when everyone didn't follow suit, he glared.

"A toast, I said!"

Tim laughed and lifted his glass and everyone else did as well.

"That's better. To Dr. McGeek who went above and beyond the call of duty to get a degree that he didn't need to show the rest of us up and make us look dumb."

"Hey!" Tim protested.

"It's _my_ toast, Probie. Quiet," Tony said and cleared his throat. "And who, while getting this degree, almost lost his life. He showed how amazing he is by refusing to let that stop him and he's now finished. To Tim McGee."

The sudden shift to serious took Tim by surprise and as everyone else echoed the toast, he felt a little choked up.

Tony grinned.

"Speech! Speech!"

"I don't need to make a speech," Tim protested.

"Yes, you do! It's tradition!"

"No, it's not."

"Talk, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim flushed but he stood up.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say something."

"Well...I couldn't have made it by myself." Tim took a breath. "Boss, you helped me by keeping me from hurting myself. Ducky, you were so patient when I was having trouble at the beginning. Tony, Ziva, Abby...Jimmy...just the fact that you didn't get fed up when I was driving myself crazy by trying to do everything at once. ...and when I couldn't do that anymore...you all didn't let me try. Thank you. I would have felt like a failure if I hadn't been able to finish when I was so close, and with you all supporting me...I finished. Just...thanks."

"Nicely said," Ducky said and raised his glass again.

"How long before you come back?" Ziva asked. "We have missed you."

"Soon, I hope...but I do need to finish these last few things. So it won't be until after graduation."

The conversation picked up again and they stayed in Gibbs' backyard until the sun was long down.

Tim could have stayed longer. It was so nice not to have the stress of finishing his doctorate, but finally, the headache he'd been expecting all day long made itself known. He tried not to show it, but he couldn't help wincing at the stab of pain. He'd overdone it today, and he'd known he would from the moment Tony and Abby had shown up at his door.

"Headache, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah," Tim admitted. It wouldn't do him any good to pretend. It would only make the headache last longer and maybe bleed into the next day as well. "Sorry, but the party is over for me. I was hoping it wouldn't happen tonight."

"I will give you a ride back," Ziva said.

"Thanks."

Tim got up and looked at everyone. The mood had been dampened by the reminder that there was still some distance to go, but even so, he had enjoyed himself so much. He hated to leave it that way.

"Hey, guys. I had a great time. Really. Thanks for doing this."

Abby gave him one more hug and a kiss.

"We're really happy for you, Tim. Really. Truly."

Tim laughed. "I know you are. Thanks."

"You'd better be ready for a standing ovation at your graduation, McGee," Tony said.

"I don't need a standing ovation, Tony."

"But you're going to get one anyway. So there." Tony stuck out his tongue.

Tim rolled his eyes and left with Ziva.

"I think I should be relieved that Tony didn't go any further," Tim said as they headed back to his apartment.

"He cares," Ziva said. "We all care. It was so hard to see you the way you were after you were injured. It is a relief that you have come so far and we wish to help you celebrate that."

"You've all done a great job," Tim said.

His head throbbed and he rubbed at his temples. Definitely time to call it a day.

"Is it worse than usual?"

"No. Just the usual...which is bad enough. I took a nap earlier in the hopes of keeping this from happening, but I did too much today. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Good."

Ziva pulled up in front of Tim's building.

"Sleep well, Tim."

"I will. Now."

Ziva laughed.

"We will always be glad to have you around, Tim."

"Thanks."

He got out of the car and went into his apartment. Quickly, he changed into his sweats and went back into his bedroom. He got into bed, patted the mattress and smiled when Jethro jumped onto the bed and curled up next to him.

"A good day, Jethro. I made it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One month later..._

Tim listened to the keynote speaker, flanked by the other doctoral candidates who would shortly be hooded. Not much was penetrating his brain at the moment, though. He was too excited, too relieved, too happy that he was actually at this point to pay attention to a speech.

After that, it was time for the names. They tried to get through them as quickly as possible while still giving time for pictures and for each new doctor to savor his moment.

"Timothy McGee."

Tim got up and walked to the stage. He shook hands with the university president and then walked to the side for pictures and as he did, he heard a sudden whooping from the audience. He looked out toward the sound and then grinned. His family, NCIS friends and a few of his grad school friends were all standing, giving him a rousing ovation. The people around them were staring at the exuberant display, but Tim didn't mind. He waved and then got off the stage. He was funneled through a quick photo line and then, he went back into the hall for the remainder of the graduation.

It didn't take long for everything to wrap up. They had too many ceremonies to get through during the graduation period to linger. So Tim was released. He made his way out of the hall and outside. He started looking around for his friends and family, but there were so many people around that he couldn't quite find them. He wandered around for a few minutes and then...

"PROBIE!"

No one else would have _that_ as a nickname. Tim looked around and finally saw Tony waving frantically at him. Tim laughed and headed over. As soon as he got to his group, he was in an assembly line of shaking hands, hugging and getting hearty thumps on the back. He didn't mind it one bit. He was so happy that he'd finally got through it all that the world could end right at this moment, he'd be okay with that.

"You haven't said a word, Tim," Sam said.

Tim looked around at them all and then at the crowds on campus. He looked back.

"I'm so happy that...I can't think of a single thing that will...say what I feel. I'm just happy."

"That's perfectly fine," Sam said. "Sometimes, you don't need words."

"Good. Because a word doesn't exist to describe it."

He'd made it. He'd succeeded.

That was what mattered.


	40. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Tim stood in front of NCIS, looking at the building. He'd been gone from here for so long. He'd had to recertify with his firearm and he'd reviewed all the rules and regs just to help him feel better.

Now, he was looking at the building. He was as excited as he'd been to get his degree.

He took a deep breath and headed inside.

"Hi, Henry," he said.

"Agent McGee! Welcome back! You're back, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Wonderful." Henry shook Tim's hand firmly and almost pushed him to the elevator.

Tim got on the elevator and took it up to the bullpen. When he got off, he was alone in the bullpen. He was really early. Oh, he doubted that he'd beat Gibbs there, but no one was there at the moment.

He walked over to his desk. He hadn't been at his desk in months. He sat down and looked around at the orange walls, the big windows, the brick. As frustrating as things could be here, he'd never wanted anything else.

"Agent McGee, you're early."

Tim jumped and looked over. Vance was standing by the stairs, looking at him with surprise.

"Couldn't sleep. Too excited to be back."

Vance smiled.

"No regrets?"

"No. Not one."

"If you'd known what would happen–?"

"I don't know if I'd have dared...but I'd have wanted to."

Vance nodded.

"Well, Dr. McGee, I think you're crazy, but NCIS is lucky to have you. Welcome back."

Tim grinned. "Thank you, sir."

Vance went up the stairs just as the elevator doors dinged, revealing Tony and Ziva. They were talking about something, but when they saw him, they smiled.

"McGee! You're here!" Tony said. "Excellent!"

"Welcome back," Ziva said. "It has not been the same without you."

"Thanks, guys," Tim said.

"So...do you want us to call you _Doctor_ or _Agent_?" Tony asked.

"You never call me _Agent_," Tim said.

"Oh, right. Forget I asked, Probie."

Gibbs came striding in, everything as normal. He paused only briefly.

"Dead Marine out at Anacostia. Let's roll."

He walked toward the elevator as everyone grabbed their bags. Then, Gibbs stopped, looked at Tim.

"Welcome back, Dr. McGee."

Tim smiled.

"Thanks, Boss."

FINIS!


End file.
